


The place we never left

by yu_gin



Series: Across the sea, under the same sky [4]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: (in Italian), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Mentions of homophobia, Second-Hand Embarrassment, and also First-hand embarrassment all the embarrassment, use of homophobic slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yu_gin/pseuds/yu_gin
Summary: Then, Elisa stops the car in front of an independent house with a wide garden surrounding it. The external walls are painted in a pale yellow that, at the light of the sunset, shimmers with pinkish tones. Yusuf stares at the place where Nicolò grew up: the house is smaller than he imagined and maybe this makes it look even cozier, while the garden is impressive, if not for the size, for the number of trees that are there planted, all heavy with their summer fruits.«Here we are. Home,» says Elisa, gesturing at the place.This is the story of Nicolò and Yusuf's first trip to Italy.This is the story of how Yusuf discovered new ways of loving and being loved.This is the story of how Nicolò found his family. Again.This is the story of their new beginning.Last (?) part of "And a wall between us"
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, mention of past Nicky/OMC
Series: Across the sea, under the same sky [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003065
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	1. The land

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is the last part of a series. I would highly recommend reading the other parts (at least the main fanfic and the third part) to fully understand it. Otherwise, I would at least recommend reading "To pave new ways, to return to old harbours" because these two fanfic are deeply connected both thematically and temporally. 
> 
> All the dialogues of this fanfic are supposed to be in Italian, except when stated differently, but it would have been too painful to add all the translations.
> 
> I might add some notes concerning the content of the next chapters, so keep an eye on the tags and beginning note.
> 
> As always, thanks to the mer-fam for all the support. I've been ranting about this fanfic for ages, and here it is.

Part I: Land

The plane hits the land and Nicolò jumps on his seat, grabbing instinctively the armrest. Yusuf, next to him, smiles amused and brushes his fingers on his hand. After months in London, the week in Tunisia gave Nicolò a pleasant tan that makes his eyes shine even more brightly, and the three-day beard on his face gives him a more relaxed look. Nicolò checks the time on his phone and then switches it from plane-mode. One notification from Elisa, telling him that she arrived at the airport. Nicolò quickly types a short answer and then puts his phone back into his pocket.

«Worried?» asks Yusuf.

«Why should I?»

«I don’t know. You look like someone who is about to fight a bear.»

«You clearly haven’t met my father,» he comments. When everybody starts standing up and looking for their bags, they remain on their seat and wait patiently, until the aisle is clear, then they take their backpack and leave. It is a small airport, and they don’t need to wait for long before picking up their checked luggage and then aim to the exit.

As soon as they leave the airport, they spot Elisa waiting for them in the parking, waving her arms to make them notice her. When they reach her, she hugs Nicolò so tightly that he has to drop his suitcase.

«Nico, Nico» she chants, kissing him on the cheeks, «look how tanned you are! How was Tunisia?»

«Beautiful, as always,» he says, showing a timid smile.

Then Elena turns to Yusuf and kisses him on the cheeks. He is caught off guard by her boldness, but it’s only a moment. He takes some time to look at her. The resemblance with Nicolò is astonishing: the same nose, the same eyes, the same slightly asymmetric features. Her long hair falls freely on her shoulder, fixed by a pair of sunglasses that she wears on her head. He remembers her from that summer when she came to visit them for Nicolò’s graduation.

She smiles warmly and greets him in Italian: «Yusuf, so nice to see you again.»

«Same, Elisa. Thank you for coming.»

«My mother didn’t leave me much choice,» she says, winking at Nicolò, who rolls his eyes. «Now jump in the car, you are waited at home.»

They squeeze themselves in the small Punto and as soon as they close the door, Elisa pushes on the accelerator and leaves the airport parking.

«So, Yusuf, did Nicolò prepare you to deal with our family?» she asks, slightly turning her head to peek at Yusuf, sitting on the back seats of the car.

«I learned all the siblings’ names and I’m confident on the in-law names. I gave up with nephews and nieces.»

She laughs loudly: «Would you like me to test your abilities?»

«Elisa, leave him alone,» protests Nicolò, but Yusuf replies:

«I wouldn’t mind a check.» He clears his voice and says: «You, Elisa, are the oldest and are married to Massimo. Two daughters.»

«Correct, go on.»

«Then, after you, there is Marta, married to Salvatore. Three sons. Then there are the twins, Pietro and Leonardo.»

«Good luck with them,» says Nicolò. «Here’s a little trick to distinguish them: Leo has a scar on the chin from when Pietro pushed him and he fell on a rock while they were playing football.»

«Leo, scar. Noted. And they are married to Maria and-» he hesitates, remembering one name with the G.

«Giada» concludes Elisa. «I’m impressed, you did your homework,» she jokes.

«Don’t worry,» says Nicolò. «You will meet them one by one. Small doses. Altogether they would be… too much to deal with.»

Elisa nods and rapidly changes the subject: «Yusuf, tell me about you. Last time we met you were freshly graduate. Have you decided what you are doing next?»

Yusuf, who has a perfect view of Nicolò’s neck from the back seat, can see him stiffening. Right. The discourse. He hasn’t found the time to talk about it yet. After the conversation with his father, he called Nasira and told her that he was interested in the job but that he needed some days to settle things. She has given him one week to think about it – and she made it quite clear that after that the offer would be withdrawn.

«I’m looking around,» he says. Nicolò stares at the road, avoiding his gaze.

«Are you also looking for a doctorate position like Nicolò?»

«No, I’m tired of academic life, I’m looking for a job. And now that Nico has a grant, I’m even more motivated. I don’t want to-»

«What?» she shouts, looking at Nicolò. «You found a position?»

Yusuf bites his tongue: he clearly shouldn’t have said that. But Nicolò didn’t tell him _not_ to talk about it and he gave for granted that he had given his family such important news.

Nicolò sighs and nods: «Yes, I did.»

«When?»

«Right before leaving for Tunisia. But you must not tell mom and dad. Not yet, at least.»

«Why?» she protests. «You would make them so happy.»

«Because I don’t know if I want to accept it, and if they find out, they will make a big fuss about it.»

«Why the hell would you miss such an opportunity?»

«I’m not saying I’m going to decline, I said I’m thinking about it.»

« _Santo Dio_ , Nico, I thought you were the clever one in this family and now you come up with this absurd idea of-»

«Mind your own business. This is my life, and I don’t have to justify my choices,» he replies sharply, before turning his head in the other direction and remaining silent. Yusuf can see Elisa contracting her jaw, in the same exact way as Nicolò. She lowers her sunglasses from her head and places them on the nose, covering her eyes.

Yusuf stares at the road in front of him, uneased by the sudden silence and the tension between the two siblings. He rests his back on the seat and sighs.

They spend the whole trip in absolute silence. As soon as they enter the village, Elisa slows down. Yusuf looks at the narrow streets and the old houses and reads the faded banners of the shops that he spots along the road. After leaving the main cluster of buildings behind, the houses start to become rarer until in their sight there are mostly fields.

Then, Elisa stops the car in front of an independent house with a wide garden surrounding it. The external walls are painted in a pale yellow that, at the light of the sunset, shimmers with pinkish tones. Yusuf stares at the place where Nicolò grew up: the house is smaller than he imagined and maybe this makes it look even cozier, while the garden is impressive, if not for the size, for the number of trees that are there planted, all heavy with their summer fruits.

«Here we are. Home,» says Elisa, gesturing at the place.

Nicolò gets out of the car and goes immediately to the trunk to take the luggage. Elisa helps him with Yusuf’s suitcase and Nicolò mutters a quiet thanks.

«You know I don’t mind coming to pick you up at the airport,» she says. Then she tilts her head at the house and says: «I’m going to say hi to mom and dad, you two… take your time.»

Left alone, Yusuf asks: «Are you okay?»

«Yes, why?»

«I mean, you barked at your sister fifteen minutes after we arrived and spent the rest of the trip in complete silence. And now you act as nothing happened.»

Nicolò shrugs: «It’s okay, she’s my sister. We are already over it,» he minimizes.

Yusuf nods, still skeptical. «I guess.»

«Look, it’s been a long day and you know how much I hate flying. I just want to eat dinner with my parents and go to sleep. With you,» he adds, with a smirk.

«Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?»

«Only if you are quiet,» he says, taking his hand and leading him to the door. He takes a deep breath and, before opening the door, he looks at Yusuf one last time and says: «If they do _anything_ to make you uncomfortable-»

«-we will deal with it. Don’t worry, Nico. Let’s go.»

Nicolò opens the door, expecting to face his parents and his sister. Neither of them is prepared for what they face instead: the whole di Genova family, counting a total of two parents, four siblings and respective spouses with their seven children. Yusuf stares in utter terror at the people in front of him. When he said he was prepared to meet Nicolò’s family, he meant “one or two at a time”, not the complete package in one shot. He turns to his boyfriend, who is staring at his family in disbelief.

«Surprise!» they yell, all together.

«I’m going to fucking kill them,» Nicolò mutters in Arabic, so quietly that he can barely hear him, but his murderous look leaves no space for interpretation.

The woman Yusuf identifies as Nicolò’s mother approaches them and hugs her son, kissing his cheeks: «Bentornato, Nicolò.»

The murderous look disappears for a second and he smiles warmly: «Ciao, mamma.»

Then the woman turns to Yusuf and says in Italian: «I finally meet you, Yusuf. I’m Rosanna,» squeezing his arm and kissing him on the cheeks as well.

«It’s a pleasure to be here.» Only then he notices the man who seems to be hiding behind Nicolò’s mother. The man comes closer to them and clears his voice.

Nicolò turns to face him: «Papà.»

«Mh, bentornato,» he murmurs, patting his shoulder. Then he looks at Yusuf and reaches out his hand: «Nice to meet you, Yusuf.» It’s a strong and manly handshake and Yusuf can feel the calluses on his hand with the tip of his fingers. He dares to look at the man and his eyes catch him off guard. They are of the same color as Elisa and Nicolò. He stares at him, and it is like facing an older version of Nicolò.

«Nice to meet you, signor di Genova,» he says. The man nods and moves away, and for a moment Yusuf wonders if he did something to offend him, without notice, and looks at Nicolò with a worried expression.

Rosanna shakes her head and says: «I’m sorry, my husband is grumpy but well-intentioned. Now, you still have to meet the rest of the family.»

Yusuf spends the following five minutes shaking hands with the men and receiving kisses on the cheeks by the women. They all seem welcoming both with Nicolò and with him. From Nicolò’s stories, he was expecting a series of cold and polite greetings, while these people seemed genuinely happy to meet him. However, when he finally shakes his hand with the last brother-in-law, he feels overwhelmed.

At that point, he sees a girl approaching them, first shyly, then, after Nicolò opens his arm, she jumps in his direction, hugging him tightly. Nicolò easily picks her up and kisses her on the cheek, making her giggle.

«Ciao, scimmietta,» he says, as she sinks her face in the crook of his neck.

«Zio!» After snuggling for some seconds, she raises her small head and says: «I missed you so much.»

«I missed you too, Anna,» he says, putting her back on the floor. Then he turns in Yusuf’s direction and says: «I would like you to meet someone.»

She curiously looks at Yusuf, who kneels in front of her and reaches out his hand. «Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Yusuf, but you can call me Joe, if you prefer.»

«Giò,» she repeats, tasting the name on her tongue, and Yusuf can’t help but smile at her pronunciation. «I’m Anna.»

«Nice to meet you, Anna.»

Nicolò’s mother comes closer and takes the child, brushing her hair. «Come with me, Anna, zio Nico and Yusuf have to get ready for dinner,» she says kindly and the girl nods. Then, facing the guys, she adds: «I think you should go upstairs and settle your luggage. I set the beds in your old room, Nico. We will wait for you in the garden. Salvo and your father have the barbecue ready and are starting now to grill the meat.» She smiles one last time, cupping her hand on his cheek and adding: «I’m glad you are home, tesoro.»

Finally alone, Nicolò gives a deep sigh and says: «I’m sorry, I didn’t know they wanted to do _this_. I told mom that I wanted to have a small dinner, just the four of us, and then let you meet my brothers one by one.»

«Nico, it’s okay,» he reassures him. «I mean, it was a bit overwhelming, but everyone was really nice to me. You should give your family some credits.»

Nicolò snorts and shrugs: «Whatever. But if they-»

«-do anything to make me uncomfortable yada yada. I know. Let’s try to enjoy the night without worrying, shall we?» he says and Nicolò nods. They walk upstairs, dragging their suitcases and backpacks with them. Nicolò guides him to their room and opens the door.

«Ta-dan,» he says, not very convinced, gesturing at the room. Yusuf looks inside and sees a bunk bed against one of the walls and another single bed on the other side of the room. Nicolò notices that the only two beds with clean sheets are those of the bunk bed and snorts: «They must be kidding.»

Yusuf bursts out laughing, and after receiving a deadly look from his boyfriend, he says: «Come on, am I the only one who finds this hilarious.»

«It’s not funny! What do they think, that we are roommates?»

«I mean, we do share a room.»

«Yusuf, I swear to God-»

Yusuf shuts him up with a kiss, pulling him closer. He bites his lips hungrily and lets one of his hands slip under his shirt. When they part, he whispers: «I missed kissing you today.»

«I missed it too,» he says, resting his forehead against his shoulder. «I’m sorry for the beds, tomorrow I will ask for some clean sheets or maybe we can move to my sisters’ old room and put their bed next to each other, or-»

«Nico,» he murmurs, brushing his cheek. «It’s okay. We will find a solution. Plus, I’ve never slept in a bunk bed, it will be fun.»

Nicolò kisses him again, this time slowly, taking his time to play with his tongue, running his free hand in Yusuf’s hair and saying: «If you behave, you could receive your first blowjob in a bunk bed.»

«Kinky,» he jokes. And then, pointing at the beds, he makes a smirk and asks: «So… top or bottom?»

«I’ll kill you.» Yusuf laughs again and Nicolò can’t hold the grudge. He can never hold the grudge for more than a few minutes with Yusuf. «Go to the bathroom, I’ll set our stuff. Then we can go downstairs and deal with the madness.»

It doesn’t take Yusuf more than a few minutes, then Nicolò takes his place in the bathroom. Yusuf uses that time to look around. He notices the pictures hung on the wall of the stairs. The first series has a baby in each frame, all wearing a white dress covered in lace. He can easily divide the photos into two groups, those that must be Nicolò and his siblings and those, much newer, that represent his nephews and nieces. He tries to spot Nicolò, among them, but he can’t even tell boys from girls apart.

Next to those, there is another series, this time counting only five photos, all set inside or in front of a church, so he deduces that they must have been some sort of Catholic celebration. It’s easy to identify Nicolò this time. He is dressed in a suit that is too big for him and is staring awkwardly at the camera. Behind him, his parents both have a hand on his shoulder and are smiling proudly.

There is one last group of photos. Four of them feature Nicolò’s siblings on the day of their weddings with their respective spouses. And then one last picture of Nicolò, framed and hung next to the others. In that picture he’s wearing a suit, this time well fit for his body, and he is proudly holding his thesis, showing it at the camera. On his head, he’s wearing a laurel crown and Yusuf smiles at that sight. Nicolò explained to him that in Italy it’s a common costume to wear a laurel wreath on your head or around your neck when you graduate from University, and he finds it adorable. It reminds him of those representations of Dante he saw on the cover of Nicolò’s copy of _Inferno_.

He knows that that photo is only two years old, but he looks so younger that he struggles to recognize the man he knows.

«My mother insisted to add it.» Yusuf turns quickly to face Nicolò. He tilts his head at the photo. « It was taken the day of my graduation, in Rome. The whole family was there for me, they cheered for me and I could feel how proud they were. It was a beautiful moment for me, but no matter how much I like this photo, I’m always a bit sad when I look at it. I know my mother put it there because she wanted to make me feel included, to let me know that they were proud of me, that I was and always will be part of the family. But a voice in my head, a voice that I would like to stop hearing, tells me that it’s because they think I will never get married.»

Yusuf opens his mouth to reply but doesn’t dare to speak. He and Nicolò never talked about marriage. In the end, they are still young and neither of them has a stable job that would allow them to make long-term plans for the future. He never thought about marrying Nicolò. But he never thought about _not_ marrying him. He simply considered it as something distant and never worried about it. He looks at Nicolò and wonders if he’s having the same thoughts crossing his mind.

«Let’s go,» says Nicolò, taking his hand and pulling him in the direction of the garden. When they walk out, Yusuf stares at the garden in awe: two tables have been set on the grass and both of them are already covered with food. Some of the kids are running in the garden and those that are too young are sitting quietly under the porch, supervised by the attentive look of Nicolò’s mother.

«Ah, there you are,» says one of Nicolò’s brothers, approaching them. Yusuf tries desperately to remembers the trick Nicolò told him to distinguish Pietro from Leonardo, but his boyfriend spares him the embarrassment.

«Ohi, Leo, mom told you where we can sit?»

«Next to her. She said she wants to be as close as possible to her little baby,» he comments, mocking him and pinching his cheek. Nicolò tries to escape from his brother’s affection but is caught by another pair of arms.

«Yeah, she missed her small Cocò so much, isn’t it, Leo?» says - Yusuf deduces - Pietro, holding Nicolò by the shoulders. Yusuf admires their interaction, fascinated by seeing Nicolò surrounded by his family. He has often heard him talking about them, usually in a very detached way. Pietro and Leo are very different from the idea that Yusuf created in his mind with the sparing pieces of information that Nicolò provided. He had already seen some pictures of them, and he already knew that, physically, they were very different from Nicolò, with their black curly hair and their dark eyes.

But despite his protests and his failed attempts to get rid of his brothers, he could see Nicolò smiling. Yusuf’s heart aches a little. He has always wanted a big family and envied his friends who grew up surrounded by brothers and sisters. He loves his parents, very much, and wouldn’t trade them for any other family, but growing up he often felt lonely.

Nicolò finally manages to disentangle from his brothers’ lethal grasp and says: «I have to talk to mom,» then to Yusuf «is it okay if I leave you alone for some minutes?»

«I think I can survive some minutes alone, Nico.»

«Yeah, Nico, we will take care of him,» says Pietro, patting Yusuf’s shoulder.

«This doesn’t make me feel any better, you know?»

«Don’t worry, Nico, we won’t tell him embarrassing stories from our childhood,» says Leo, and Nicolò rolls his eyes but when Yusuf tilts his head, he finally decides to move. He spots his mother next to the kids, talking animatedly with Leo’s wife, Giada.

As soon as she sees him, she smiles and invites him to move closer: «Look who is back. Was everything alright upstairs?»

Nicolò considers telling her about the bed situation, then he decides to deal with one matter at a time. «I wanted to ask you about dinner. I see dad and Salvo are grilling meat.»

«We bought some sausages and _pancetta_ and _costiccine_ from the usual butcher-» Nicolò is about to say something but his mother is quick to add: «-as well as some chicken.»

«But-»

«That we are cooking separately from the rest of the meat. And if he doesn’t like chicken, there are tons of vegetables, raw and cooked. And if that is not enough, there is some _pasta fredda_ with mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, and olives. And to drink there is peach juice, coke, and water.» Nicolò stares at her, surprised. «Did I do my homework?»

«You are… incredibly prepared.»

«We do have internet here, for your information.» She sighs and says: «Look, Nicolò, I know we did wrong. Many times. But we are trying to make it up, okay? I can’t guarantee you that we won’t make mistakes but at least we are trying.»

He looks at her, still suspicious: «Does dad agree with you?»

She frowns and says: «You know your father. He’s old and-»

«Yeah, unfortunately I know him very well.»

«Give him some time, Nico.»

«You have been telling this for six years. How much time is some time?» He sighs and shakes his head. «We have this same discussion every year, I could have this conversation on my own, since I already know all the lines. Listen, I don’t care if he is rude to me, I’m used to it. But Yusuf’s parents have been the kindest and nicest to me, and if dad dares to disrespect him, even just one time, I swear I’m leaving. This is a family matter; these are our issues. So, is there anything I should know to avoid incidents?»

His mother hesitates and instinctively watches the kids, playing next to them. «Can you- umh- we haven’t told the kids yet. They know he’s a _friend_.»

Nicolò rolls his eyes: «Of course,» he snorts. As he walks away from his mother, he remembers the past week in Tunis, with Ibrahim and Zeimira. How welcomed, how accepted he felt from a family that wasn’t his. Well, not yet, at least.

_I’ve been stupid, thinking that my family would magically change. They will never change. Some things are fixed in time, craved in the rock, and will always be the same._

Surrounded by the people he loves, Nicolò feels lost once again.

«So, I think it was mom and dad’s anniversary, and this one, this crazy boy, who was- how old was he, Marta? Ten maybe? - anyway, Nico decided that he wanted to prepare pancakes for breakfast. He had seen them on _Matilda_ and decided that he wanted to cook them because they looked delicious. Of course, we didn’t know how to cook pancakes, but he managed to find a book in the library where there was the recipe. So, after insisting for two weeks, I accepted to help him, and we prepared the batter in the evening, before going to sleep. The plan was to wake him up and prepare the pancakes together. I set the alarm at six and like… few minutes after I woke up, I heard this scream coming from the kitchen. I ran downstairs with Marta and mom and dad arrived right after us and we found him crying in a corner of the kitchen with a terrible smell of burnt batter.»

Elisa’s story is interrupted by Rosanna’s scolding look: «I didn’t find it funny back then and I don’t find it funny today. He could have burnt the kitchen and hurt himself!» she protests.

«Come on, mom! I remember we laughed so much while you were spanking him,» says Marta.

«I don’t remember shit,» says Pietro.

«Yeah, because you and Leo slept the whole time. This house could burn down and you two would keep sleeping,» insists Marta, and Giada confirms her statement.

«I remember it,» protests Leonardo. «And I remember saying that it was a bad idea because dad wouldn’t have appreciated it because he doesn’t like to change his habits.»

«I like my breakfast how it is,» says the man, when he feels called out by the son. «One moka coffee and my cereal biscuits. That’s my breakfast. I don’t like fancy stuff, or what the hell they eat in America. Eggs and bacon for breakfast? They must be crazy.»

Yusuf bites his lips, trying to hold a cackle. He’s sure that Nicolò’s father is not ready to learn about Tunisian breakfast. Instead, he turns to Nicolò and asks: «So, you were born a chef.»

Nicolò finishes drinking his glass of wine and says: «I told you I’ve always liked cooking.»

«I’ve always told Nico that if he wanted to work with me at the restaurant he would be welcomed, but no, he wanted to study Philosophy,» comments Salvatore - or Salvo, as everybody calls him - who, according to Yusuf’s memory and to the seat arrangement, should be Marta’s husband.

«Shut up, Salvo, he’s the only one of my children that managed to graduate at University,» says Rosanna, sitting next to Nicolò. She pinches his cheek, despite Nicolò’s complaints.

«You should have seen him, mamma, with his shiny toga and his cute little hat. He looked like one of those students from American movies, those where in the end they throw the hat in the air,» says Elisa. «I took one million photos, I think.»

«And you, Yusuf? You also graduated this year, right?» asks Rosanna.

Yusuf finishes chewing his chicken, caught off guard by the question, and says: «Yes, indeed, only one week before Nicolò.»

«Your parents must be so proud of you,» she continues.

«They are. Plus, I’m an only child, they have a lot of energies to be proud of me,» he laughs.

«Nicolò said they are professors?»

«Yes, both of them. My dad teaches literature and my mom architecture at the University of Tunis.» He notices the admired looks on the others’ faces.

«That’s impressive. Do you plan to follow their path?» asks Rosanna.

«Oh no, I’m not interested in the academic career. I’m looking for a job now.» He can almost feel Nicolò’s eyes on his neck, he can almost hear his questions, but he keeps staring at his plate, hoping in a providential change of subject. He promised himself to talk to him about the job in Paris, but this is not a conversation he wants to have in front of his whole family.

«These are difficult times for young people looking for a job. I’ve always told Nico that-»

«Enough, mamma,» says Nicolò, sharply interrupting his mother’s speech. «We don’t need your negativity.» Yusuf gives a quick look at Nicolò and wonders if the reason behind his short temper should be sought is their job-hunting discussions.

«Yeah, mom, how dare you to suggest that someone with a degree in Philosophy might have problems finding a job?» comments Marta, gaining an angry look from Nicolò.

«You can’t help but criticize me every time I come back, can you, Marta?»

She rolls her eyes and says: « _Oh Gesù_ , Nico, you really are too sensitive on this topic. We cannot say anything that you immediately get offended.»

«Marta, Nicolò, stop bickering,» says Rosanna, her eyes jumping from his daughter to his son. Yusuf deduces that this kind of fights are not rare in the di Genova family, since all the other siblings don’t seem worried. Elisa keeps eying her sister, Leonardo seems nearly amused by it, while Pietro keeps eating and drinking as if nothing happened. Marta and Nicolò lower their eyes on their plate, both shaking their heads.

The heavy silence that lies between them is broken by Anna, who jumps against Nicolò, wrapping her little arms around his neck and yelling: «Zio! Zio! Can you come with me? I wanted to show you my new drawings,» she says, pulling his arm.

«I can’t now, Anna. I’m still having dinner,» he says, patiently.

«But you always come to see my drawings!»

«Anna, drop it,» says Elisa, in a scolding tone. «Zio Nico is still eating, and he is tired from the trip. You can show him the drawings tomorrow.»

Anna pouts and complains: «But last year-»

«Last year is last year. And now there is also Yusuf. It is unpolite to leave a guest alone after you invited him.»

Anna looks at Yusuf, who is suddenly put unease by her intense gaze, as she says: «I’m sure that Joe would let him come and see my drawings.»

«Anna, that is not his name,» says Rosanna, but Yusuf is quick to intervene.

«Oh, no, it’s fine. I told her that she can call me Joe, it’s an easy nickname,» he says. Then, to Nicolò: «And if you want to go, I don’t mind.»

Nicolò sighs and picks her up, making her sit on his knees: «I’m sorry, Anna, not tonight. But tomorrow I promise I will spend some time with you, okay? Now go and play with the other cousins.» She looks at him, disappointed, but in the end, she gives up and runs away.

«So, Joe, uh?» asks Marta. «As in short for Joseph?»

«More as in “something so simple that British people can’t butcher my name”,» he replies, gaining some laughers from the others. «But yeah, I guess you can translate it as Joseph. Or Giuseppe, in Italian.»

«Ah, Giuseppe,» says Marta, delighted, and then she turns to his father with a malicious grin and adds: «Just like you, papà.»

Nicolò coughs violently, under Yusuf's puzzled gaze and for Marta’s amusement. An even wider grin appears on her face, as she says: «You really never noticed? That is interesting, I wonder if-»

«Marta, I swear-» Nicolò spits, while the rest of the tables stares down at their plates, trying to hold a cackle.

«Enough!» shouts Nicolò’s father. «Marta, I think you drank enough for tonight and you are embarrassing your brother and our guest. Nicolò, find some composure. Now, if you excuse me, I have other meat to grill,» he says, then he stands up and leaves the table.

Yusuf stares at his plate, slightly embarrassed to witness a discussion that clearly concerns something more private, beyond what just happened. He didn’t expect to be spared some level of awkwardness, and despite being polite in his regards, he can feel that Nicolò’s father is still uncomfortable around him, or simply with the fact of his son having a _boy_ friend.

«I’m sorry, Yusuf,» says Rosanna. «My children sometimes don’t know how to behave.»

«So now it is also my fault?» asks Nicolò.

«Come on, Nico, you know how Marta is, she was kidding,» says Leo. «And to be fair, you have always been too sensitive. It was just a joke.»

«Marta, that was kind of rude,» says Elisa to her sister.

«What a surprise, Saint Elisa, defending her precious baby brother against the evil Marta,» she comments, emptying his glass of wine, while her husband tries to calm her, with little chance of success. «We really haven’t grown up, have we? Is this why you didn’t bring him here before? Were you afraid that we would embarrass you?»

«Well, now I am, seeing how you are behaving. And dad is right, you should stop drinking.» He stands up so quickly that his chair nearly falls. He brushes his hand on Yusuf’s shoulder, a quick gesture but impossible to miss. Yusuf tries to catch his hand, but Nicolò is quicker as he moves away.

«Oh, come on! Where are you going now?» yells Marta, but she doesn’t receive any answer. Once he is gone, she shakes her head and comments: «Jesus Christ, he’s so dramatic.»

Leo looks at her, twisting his lips and saying: «You have been quite mean, even for our standard of meanness.»

Marta looks for the gaze of Pietro, who nods, silently agreeing with his twin. She doesn’t even face Elisa, already knowing that she wouldn’t receive comprehension from her. Yusuf keeps looking at his plate, praying to God that nobody asks for his opinion.

«Oh, come on! Isn’t it always like this? We make fun of each other and we tease Nico until he breaks. That’s what we always do. What’s different now?»

«Honey, I think you are forgetting that we have a guest, today,» says Salvo, taking his wife’s hand while she looks at the newest member of their family. Yusuf holds her gaze for a few seconds, observing her expressions shifting from puzzled to worried.

«Oh,» she murmurs. She clears her voice, shifting away from the glass, and adds: «I’m sorry, Yusuf. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.»

«It’s okay,» he murmurs. Well, it is not okay. He is alone with an amount of di Genova that he would define _too many_ di Genova, at least in one single row and Nicolò nowhere to be seen. But Marta seems sincere in her apology and he suspects that the red wine she has been sipping all night long played a role in her behavior. «Actually, I think I should go look for him.»

«No, I’ll go,» says Marta. «I’ve been a bitch, I need to apologize.»

Yusuf watches her leaving in the same direction where Nicolò disappeared, then turns again only to discover that all the eyes are on him. Suddenly, he understands why Nicolò was concerned about him meeting the family, and he must admit that maybe he underestimated the whole situation.

As he forces himself to smile in front of what remains of the family, he thinks: _This is going to be a long week._

Nicolò hears the step approaching him and turns to face his sister. Marta reaches out her hand, holding a cigarette in his direction:

«Peace?»

He rolls his eyes and snorts, turning his face away from her. She doesn’t withdraw the hand, and she remains still until he finally nods, but refuses the cigarette: «I quitted.»

«You left me alone with my bad habit,» she says, lighting one.

«You should quit as well.»

She shrugs and answers: «When those three demons of my sons leave my house, I’ll consider it.» She breathes slowly, leaning against the wall of the house. «I’m sorry, Nico. Your Yusuf, he seems like a good guy.»

«He is, he really is.» Nicolò sighs and shakes his head. «I shouldn’t have brought him here. Sometimes it is too much even for me.»

«And you are scared that mom and dad will make him run away?»

«They are not my main concern, but they are not helping.»

Marta looks at him, puzzled: «What do you mean?»

«They gave us Pietro and Leo’s bed. The bunk bed.» She laughs quietly as he continues: «And this whole party? I specifically told them that I wanted to introduce all of you one by one, I didn’t want to make him feel overwhelmed, and what does she do? She invites literally everyone on our first night here.»

«You really don’t understand, do you?» she asks, and when he looks at her, confused, she snorts. «Mom is trying so hard to please you, to regain your love, and you don’t even notice it.»

«To regain my love? What are you talking about?»

«Remember last year, when you came back from Tunisia and you were talking about how clever, how interesting, how amazing his parents are? You repeated how brave his mother was, with her studies and her fights for women's rights and that she surely had an interesting life. Not to mention how many times you said how beautiful it was to talk to his dad about your thesis, to finally find someone who can understand it.»

«But it is true!»

«I know that it _is_ true, but I also know that it makes mom sad when you seem to love them more than you love us. When it seems like you think we are not at your level.» She pauses, taking a deep breath and blowing the smoke away. «Sometimes I wonder if you are not secretly ashamed of us for not being clever enough for you.»

«I’m not ashamed of you!»

«Are you that sure? Then why you waited so much to bring him here? You have been dating for one year and a half and you bring him here only now.»

«It’s not a problem of education, they could have a doctorate in Astrophysics, for what it concerns me, and it wouldn’t change a thing. Every time I come back, it’s always the same old story, with mom that tries to fix everything, and at the same time, she condones dad’s shitty behavior. I’m used to it, I can handle dad’s silences, his quiet disapproval, I can handle his ignorance. So yes, I’m ashamed of them, I’m ashamed of the way they handled _what happened_.» He doesn’t need to specify what he is referring to. He never did. And Stefano’s name still feels heavy on his chest. «That’s why I didn’t bring him before.»

«They are trying, Nico, they are trying so hard.»

«Like Easter of two years ago?» he asks. «It’s not _one_ mistake, Marta, it is the same mistake over and over again, every fucking time. And I know why they have to do it, I know about the shop, about Leo’s job, about Pietro and Maria’s bar, I know everything, I just wish they did something for me, for once.»

«Something for you? Are you out of your mind? Have you an idea how much they struggled to make you study, first in Rome and then in London?»

«Yeah, they sent me away so I wouldn’t embarrass them.»

«No, they sent you away so you could live your life away from this fucking hell pit,» she shouts. «You think you would have been happy here, in this place? Even before you came out, we _knew_ you would have left us behind, we knew you were destined to do something better. Nonna knew, mom and dad knew, we all knew. You don’t remember mom and dad saving money, to be sure you could study, you don’t remember them in the kitchen, at the end of the month, counting every single euro.»

«I didn’t-»

«You didn’t know, of course. You were a kid, and they didn’t want to put this on your shoulders. But I hate to hear you talking like this of our parents, I would hate if you thought that we don’t love you.»

«It’s hard to believe when I clearly am the disappointment of this family.»

«You think _you_ are the disappointment of this family? The one that has always been the first of the class? The only one of the family who studied at University and graduated?» Marta’s laugher sounds bitter and rough on Nicolò’s ears, as if it came from a deep and secret part of her that she never showed. «There is Elisa, beautiful perfect Elisa who married an engineer and moved to Genova. Elisa, who has always been dad’s favorite, his sweet, perfect daughter. And Pietro and Leo always had each other, they are funny and easy going and everybody loves them. And then you, the little one, always pampered by the family, mom’s little boy. And then there’s me, the one who got pregnant at twenty without being married and never had a stable job. Do I need to explain who the disappointment of this family is?»

«But mom and dad love you and Salvo, as well as Luca, Giorgio, and Matteo. They always help you with the kids, they never miss their football games, their school plays. They are not ashamed of you.»

«Maybe now, but I guarantee you that dad was not enthusiastic when I told him I was pregnant.» She throws the cigarette stub on the pebbles and crushes it with the heel of her shoe. «Do you remember how it was?»

«I remember dad yelling that his daughter would never marry a Sicilian guy,» he says.

«God, he hated Salvo so much. He said he was too loud, too careless, too poor for me, especially compared to Massimo, Elisa’s perfect fiancé. But we all know that the problem is that he was coming from too far in the South.»

Nicolò smirks and says: «Well, now they go along so well. He finally found someone who loves barbecue as much as he does.»

«When he understood that Salvo was here to stay, he started to accept him. Plus, despite what he claims, dad has changed a lot in these years.»

«How?»

«Well, when you came home and said that your new boyfriend was Tunisian and Muslim, he didn’t have a stroke. I call that a progress.»

Nicolò snorts and slowly turns in the direction of the garden. He spots his father and Salvo, chatting animatedly while cleaning the grill. He sees Leo and Pietro, playing football with the kids, while their wives discuss with Rosanna, holding their sleeping kids in their arms. Yusuf is chatting with Massimo and Elisa, comfortable and relaxed.

«I bet his family is fantastic, and his parents are the nicest people, but this is your family, Nico. We will always be there for you, and you know it. Even if we’ll do wrong, sometimes, even if we are not as clever and brilliant as you would like us to be.»

«I know,» he says, with a deep sigh. «I know, Marta, it’s just that whenever I come back here, I can’t help but think of what happened. And I don’t mean only what happened six years ago, I mean every summer, every Christmas, every Easter, it’s always the same old story. I want to believe this time it will be different. I want to believe things will change, but I’m too scared of being disappointed, once again.»

He shrugs and adds: «Have a little faith.» Then she passes beside him and joins the rest of the family. Nicolò remains alone, in the corner of the garden, staring at the others in the quiet silence of the summer night. He looks at his family and at Yusuf, among them, and he fixes that image, framing it in his heart.

Then Yusuf looks away from Massimo, notices him, and smiles in his direction. Nicolò steps away from the darkness and walks to him.

Yusuf watches Nicolò climbing on the top bed with a loud snort. He can hear him adjusting on the mattress, struggling to find a comfortable position. They are so used to their sleeping habit that having Nicolò so close, yet not in his arms, seems so wrong.

From the open window of their room, he can hear the sound of the crickets breaking the silence of the night. He has always lived in the city, first in Tunis and then in London, and he is not used to the uncanny stillness of the countryside.

When he hears Nicolò sighing again, for what is probably the tenth time in a quarter of hour, he asks: «You can’t sleep?»

«I hate this bed.»

«Why don’t you come here?»

Nicolò hesitates, only for some seconds, and then leaves his uncomfortable bed to join Yusuf’s. Despite the pleasant breeze coming from outside, Nicolò is wearing only his underwear, while Yusuf preferred to keep his t-shirt and a pair of light pajama pants, not because he needed them, but because the idea of going to the bathroom and crossing his path with Nicolò’s mother while wearing only a pair of boxers made him cringe.

Nicolò easily finds his place in Yusuf’s arms, who pulls him into a soft hug. He feels Yusuf’s nose pressed in the crook of his neck, his beard tickling his shoulder and he closes his eyes, finally in peace.

«Long day, uh?» comments Yusuf.

«My family can be too much, sometimes.»

«I didn’t find it “too much”,» admits Yusuf. _Maybe too many_ , he thinks. «I talked a lot to Elisa and Massimo, and also to Pietro and Leonardo. Your mother was very kind and asked me at least four times if I had enough food. By the end of the dinner, I was stuffed like a turkey.» He hums against his skin and adds: «I like big families, the loudness, the warmth, the feeling of being surrounded by people. The feeling of belonging.»

Nicolò turns to face him, kissing his forehead. «I’m glad to hear that. I want you to have a good time.»

«You know what could give me a good time?» he asks. Nicolò looks at him, puzzled. Yusuf smirks and adds: «I was promised a blowjob if I behaved.»

A mischievous smile appears on Nicolò’s face, as he purrs: «And did you?»

«I did my best. I played the part of the good and well-mannered boyfriend for the whole night, while thinking of us, of what you would do to me once we were alone.»

«And what were you imagining?» he asks, pushing him against the mattress and sitting on his lap.

«Mmh, I was thinking about your three-day beard, so rough against my skin. The beautiful burns it would leave on places that nobody else will see.» As he speaks, Nicolò’s hands are already on the waistband of his pajama pants and, without any further warning, he lowers them with one fluid movement, together with his boxers. Yusuf has to bite his tongue in order to hold a surprised screech. The boxers remain on his ankles, limiting his movements. He could easily get rid of them, but he likes when Nicolò takes control. He likes the feeling of letting himself go, trusting his boyfriend to give him what he needs. His cock is still soft, but he can feel the excitation growing as Nicolò’s fingers run from his chest, down to his stomach, circling his navel in a lascivious way, and down again, resting on his sex.

«But what about the noise? Will you be able to hold your moans? Or will you be loud and whiney, like always?» he teases him, his other hand playing with his lips.

«I promise I’ll be quiet,» he pants, knowing that at some point he will have to sink his face in the pillow, because there is no way he can be silent when his boyfriend goes down on him.

«We’ll see,» he says, shifting lower and bending so that his nose is resting on his stomach. He brushes his chin against the sensitive skin of his boyfriend’s pubis, and he can feel Yusuf’s body shivering and shifting his hips, instinctively. «Too sensitive?»

«It’s tickling,» he protests.

«Is it?» he teases, brushing his bearded cheek between his legs, too lightly to hurt him, but enough to tease him. A deep sigh leaves Yusuf’s lips and he tries to muffle it with his hands. «Keep those hands there, you will need them.» Nicolò pushes down Yusuf’s hips, holding him against the mattress and preventing any movement, and takes him in his mouth. In the beginning, it’s only the tip, a sweet teasing that produces a rough moan from Yusuf. He plays with it, making obscene noises and taking it centimeter per centimeter, until he has it all in his mouth. He raises his eyes to look at him, locking their gazes together and Yusuf holds his breath at the sight of those eyes.

He feels Nicolò’s beard brushing against his skin. He knows how much Nicolò likes it when he blows him when he brushes his soft beard against his tights until they are red. He knows how much Nicolò likes it when he keeps _feeling_ it even after they are done, while he’s sitting in the kitchen with the others, when he’s in class, when he’s in the metro, thinking about what they have done, cherishing those memories. He wants to feel the same. He wants to remember about him while he’s walking around his village, when people wonder who he is and he is presented as _just a friend_ , he will feel those burns on his skin as a reminder that he’s not _just a friend_ , indeed.

«Oh, Nico,» he moans softly. «What a view. I will think about it tomorrow, I will wear it on my skin with pride, I will look at your eyes and think of this moment, of you, blowing me on your brother’s bed.»

Nicolò stops, abruptly, and raises his face: «You are not helping,» he remarks, sharply, and Yusuf snorts.

«I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I’ll be good, I swear.»

Nicolò looks at him, suspicious. «You better, or I’ll leave you hard and go to sleep.» He sinks again on his cock, this time leaving him free to move his hips. Yusuf instinctively pushes them, seeking more contact, and Nicolò takes it eagerly. He fucks his mouth while muffling his moans with the pillow. He tries to resist another one, two, three thrusts, and then he comes. He moves the pillow away from his face just in time to see Nicolò raising from his crotch and swallowing. His mouth goes dry. Indeed, what a view.

«So, how was your first blowjob in a bunk bed?»

«Fucking glorious,» he says, trying to catch his breath. Nicolò moves from his position, freeing his legs, and he sits on the edge of the bed. Yusuf reaches out his hand, brushing his fingers against his cheek and then pocking it, playfully. «I already feel sore. I will feel you all night long.»

«So, now you know what it feels like when you go down on me,» he purrs. He follows Yusuf’s eyes, which landed on his quite evident erection, hidden in his briefs. «You don’t have to-»

«I want to,» he says, slipping out of the bed and standing on his knees, between Nicolò’s legs. «So, you can also have your first blowjob in a bunk bed.» Nicolò makes an embarrassed whine and Yusuf stares at him, incredulous: «Oh my God, where?»

«A hostel in Florence, during holidays, second year of University.»

Yusuf laughs, playing with the waistband of his briefs, already enjoying the view of Nicolò’s half-hard cock. «You never cease to amaze me, Nico.»

Nicolò’s attempt to form an answer is abruptly interrupted by Yusuf’s mouth on him, and all his thoughts evaporate from his brain, leaving him emptier, lighter.

The first thing that Nicolò feels, as he wakes up, is the solid and reassuring sensation of Yusuf’s chest against his back, his nose pressed on his shoulder, their legs tangled together.

The first thing he hears, as he gains consciousness, is the gentle creek of the door of his room.

The first thing he sees, as he opens his eyes, is his mother, standing in front of their bed.

He jumps, waking up his boyfriend abruptly, and Yusuf, still half asleep, jerks in confusion at the sudden break of their bliss.

«Nico, what-» his words die in his mouth, as he opens his eyes and recognizes Rosanna in front of them.

«Mamma, what are you doing here?»

«I- I’m sorry, I thought-» she stutters, clearly more embarrassed than them. They didn’t plan to sleep together. Nicolò wanted to go back to his bed, but Yusuf insisted on staying together another moment, another minute, and then they both fell asleep, too tired for the flight, the overwhelming dinner with the family, and the satisfactory orgasms. Yusuf looks down at his body and thanks to God when he realizes that he is wearing his t-shirt and pajama pants. On the other side, Nicolò is wearing only his briefs and tries to cover himself with the sheets.

«Mamma, can you- can you leave us some minutes? We will come downstairs after we… umh, wear something.»

«Yeah, sure, we will wait for you downstairs.» She walks away, avoiding their gazes. Before leaving, she adds: «I will… I thought that maybe it’s better if I give you some clean sheets and you put them on your old bed. You can move it close to the bunk bed. That could be more comfortable.»

«Thanks, mamma,» Nicolò says, and looks at her, until she leaves, closing the door behind. As soon as they are left alone, he snorts: «I’m so sorry, she has this bad habit of coming in without knocking, it drives me crazy.»

«It’s okay, don’t worry,» Yusuf reassures him, brushing his back.

«Well, I’m sure she won’t do it anymore.» He stands up and stretches, yawning loudly. Yusuf admires the perfect arc of his back, wanting to pull him back to bed. But the idea of Nicolò’s mother - or worse - Nicolò’s _father_ catching them in the middle of anything that could be considered _inappropriate_ makes him desist. They both pick a clean t-shirt from their suitcases and, after alternating in the bathroom, they go downstairs. Even before entering the kitchen, they hear the loud laughers of Anna and Sofia, Elisa’s daughters, chatting with their nonna.

«Ciao zio! Ciao Joe!» Anna shouts, as soon as they appear on the threshold.

«Ciao Anna,» says Nicolò, approaching the stove.

«The moka is ready, you only have to turn on the stove,» says his mother. Then, to Yusuf: «I don’t know what you usually have for breakfast. I prepared something but feel free to ask.»

Yusuf stares at the table, already full of food. A chopping board where some fresh bread has already been cut in slices stands next to three jars of jam of different kinds, as well as a basket of peaches and a bowl of cookies from where Anna and Sofia are eagerly picking.

«I usually eat eggs, but I’m happy to try something new.»

Rosanna smiles: «Oh, we have many fresh eggs, directly from the hens of our neighbor!» she says happily. Yusuf considers preparing some ojja, but decides to try a more Italian breakfast and takes a slice of bread and what he expects to be plum jam. After one bite, he doesn’t regret his choice. The jam has a raw texture, and he can really taste the fruit. He looks at the jar and notices that it doesn’t have the label of a brand, but only a small tag with written “prugne, 2015”. He smiles thinking of the numerous jars of homemade tomato sauce that Nicolò jealously store in their kitchen cupboard, remembering where they come from. Part of him envies his childhood, wondering how it would be like to grow up surrounded by siblings, in a quiet and peaceful village far from the chaos of the city, eating homemade jam and fresh eggs.

When the moka starts gurgling, Rosanna is quicker than Nicolò and turns off the stove. Nicolò reaches out his cup, while his mother pours the boiling coffee. She waits until she sees him drinking and then drops: «I need to ask you a favor.»

Nicolò rolls his eyes, visibly annoyed, and asks: «What favor?»

«Your father and I need to go to a certain place, this morning. Can you take care of the girls and the shop?»

«But, mamma, I wanted to show Yusuf the village and maybe go to the sea.»

«It’s only for one morning,» she insists.

«Where are you going?»

«To a place. In Genova.» She is suspiciously vague, which makes Nicolò even more insistent.

«What are you hiding?»

«Nothing!» she protests. And then murmurs: «Your father… he needs to see a doctor.»

«A doctor?» he jumps. «What doctor? Is he okay?»

Rosanna stares awkwardly at the girls and says: «Anna, Sofia, why don’t you go dress yourselves? I left your clean clothes on your bed.» The two girls nod obediently and leave the kitchen. Then, once they are far enough to not hear, she adds: «Nicolò, don’t scare the kids. There’s nothing to worry about.»

«Now _I_ am scared.»

«I’m fine,» says Giuseppe, joining them in the kitchen. And then, to his wife: «I told you not to tell him. It’s just a check, a normal goddamn check.»

«And why are you going to Genova, then, if it’s just a check.» Nicolò’s breakfast is completely forgotten. Yusuf witnesses the conversation, in awkward silence, staring at his cup of coffee.

«Because Massimo has a friend who is a urologist and he said that his friend is the best urologist in the whole province,» he says

«A urologist? Is it a kidney stone?» Nicolò asks, worried.

«Nicolò, don’t worry, it is just-»

«It’s the goddamn prostate,» he shouts. «And it is also none of your business. Now, if you can do us this favor of keeping the family shop for one morning, otherwise we will keep it close.» Then he storms out of the kitchen, without waiting for an answer.

Nicolò looks at his mother, who shrugs: «I swear, Nicolò, it’s nothing. Your father is getting old, even if he struggles to admit it. We can keep the shop close for one morning, it’s not a problem. I’m sorry, we should have asked you in advance.»

Yusuf takes the courage to speak and says: «I wouldn’t mind spending the morning there. I’ve heard so much about the family shop, I would like to see it.»

Rosanna smiles sweetly. «You are too kind, Yusuf, but you are here to relax and enjoy your stay, not to work.»

«But I want to help,» he insists. «I’ve always lived in big cities, I’m curious to experience the relaxing life of small a village.» Then, to Nicolò, he adds: «Seriously, Nico, it will be fun.»

Nicolò sighs and desists: «Fine, if it’s for one morning. But promise me that I won’t be babysitting Anna and Sofia for the whole week.»

«Only for one morning,» she guarantees. Then she kisses Nicolò on the head, despite his noisy complaints. «Here are the keys. For lunch, you can eat the leftover from last night. We should be home around two. Anna and Sofia are allowed to eat only one snack, no matter how much they insist.»

«Keys, leftover, two p.m., only one snack. Crystal clear, you can go now, before I change my mind,» he says. They both look outside of the window while Rosanna joins her husband in their small car and they drive away. Left alone, Nicolò looks at Yusuf and opens his mouth to speak, but Yusuf is faster in replying:

«Don’t say you are sorry, Nicolò.»

«But I am. They just keep throwing stuff at us. This was supposed to be a holiday, you should be relaxing and enjoying the countryside, not working for my parents while babysitting my nieces.»

«Nico, I already told you, I don’t care. I came here to meet your family and to spend some time with you, to see where you grew up. Plus, I grew up in the city and I don’t know how life is in the countryside. I want the full experience, with my country boy» he says, pulling playfully his t-shirt.

Nicolò smiles and tosses up his hair: «Alright, city boy. You can finish preparing yourself while I check Anna and Sofia. And then we can go.»

They move upstairs and Yusuf walks to the bathroom while Nicolò disappears in his sisters’ ex-room, where his nieces are bickering about their clothes. Yusuf stops and eavesdrops on the conversation, spying them from behind the door. He spots Anna sitting on the bed, while Sofia stands in front of Nicolò, her small arms crossed on her chest and an adorable pout on her lips. Nicolò kneels in front of her and speaks softly:

«Sofi, why don’t you want to wear the t-shirt that your mom left for you?»

«Because Anna said that it is ugly.»

Nicolò throws a scolding look at the older girl, who turns her face, avoiding his gaze. «That is very mean, but also not true. Look at this beautiful kitty on the t-shirt! Don’t you like the kitty on the t-shirt?»

Yusuf covers his mouth with the hand, muffling his giggling. He knew that Nicolò was very close with his siblings’ kids, especially with Elisa’s daughters, since he lived for nearly a year in Elisa’s house. And well, he should have expected that he would be good with children, but seeing him gently reassuring Sofia, his voice even softer than the usual, was something he wasn’t prepared for. And he feels a grip on his heart, as if someone was holding it in their hand. He realizes that, after one year and a half with him, there are still aspects of Nicolò that he doesn’t know.

And even when he turns to reach the bathroom, that image remains fixed in his eyes, tattooed in his heart.

When they reach the shop, they find an old lady waiting in front of it. She seems to recognize Nicolò and the girls because she smiles and comments:

«Nicolò! It’s nice to see you back.»

«Buongiorno, signora Prandini,» he says opening the shutters of the shop. «Sorry for the delay, I had some problems with these two,» he says, tilting his head in the direction of Anna and Sofia, who run inside.

The old lady stares at Yusuf, waiting for a presentation. Yusuf reaches out his hand and says: «I’m Joe, a friend from London.» He can feel Nicolò’s gaze on his skin. They didn’t discuss how they would address each other to people outside of Nicolò’s family, but Yusuf figured out that they didn’t owe an explanation to every person they would meet.

The lady shakes his hand: «Nice to meet you.» Then, to Nicolò: «When did you come back from London?»

«Yesterday evening,» he says, turning on the register, while the lady wanders between the shelves. Yusuf joins Nicolò behind the counter while the two girls occupy a small table where they immediately spread their pencils and notebooks. «It’s nice to be back,» he adds, more to himself than to the woman. There is something in his voice, something that Yusuf can understand so well because he felt the same, only one week before, when he landed in Tunis after having been away for months.

She keeps shopping while chatting. Yusuf struggles to follow the conversation, as she slowly slips from an accented Italian to Ligurian dialect. He guesses it must be the same feeling as when Nicolò first heard him speaking Tounsi with his family, rather than the Modern Standard Arabic Nicolò had been studying. In the end, she comes back to the counter with her grocery and exchanges the last few bits with Nicolò, before leaving.

«It’s going to be a boring morning,» he announces, sighing. «Yusuf, if you want you can just sit behind the counter and work on your sketches.»

«Are you sure you won’t need any help?» he asks.

«I think I can handle it. I will ask you in case I need it.» Yusuf sits behind the corner and takes his sketchbook and a pen from his bag. He looks around and sketches very roughly the shop, adding more details and playing with the perspective as he goes.

From time to time, people keep coming to the shop. Most of them are locals and they all greet Nicolò with familiarity, asking about London and his graduation. They all look at Yusuf, puzzled by his presence, probably wondering who he is, but most of them keep their curiosity for themselves. It is compelling to see all these people being so familiar with Nicolò and the girls. It reminds him of his neighborhood in Tunis, of the elders that were there before he was born and never moved, of the old ladies from the shops near his house that still remember his name, who ask him about his mother every time they see him even though they see her more often than him.

There also some tourists, who are easy to spot for their clothes and their foreign accent: a young French couple, a German family with three kids, an old couple from Turin, and a group of British girls that can’t take their eyes off of Yusuf and that giggle when he waves at them as they leave.

After serving three clients in a row, Nicolò leans against the counter, checking the time on his phone. Anna reaches him and hands him a paper.

«Zio, look at my drawing,» she says.

«It’s beautiful, Anna. Is it me?» he asks, pointing at the figure in the drawing.

«Of course! You are working in the shop,» she adds, pointing at the shelves.

«A true artist. Can I keep it?» She nods happily, and Nicolò adds: «You know, Anna, that Joe is also an artist.»

She turns to him and Yusuf feels her intense gaze on him. Those eyes weigh on his skin as Nicolò’s, being of the same intense blue, making him uncomfortable in that way only kids can do. She raises one eyebrow, skeptical. «Can I see?» she asks, pointing at his sketchbook.

Yusuf stiffens: he knows very well what kind of sketches are also present in the notebook. And he doesn’t doubt that the seven years old would be able to recognize her uncle, drawn in poses that she is not supposed to see. He shows her the sketch of the shop, keeping the book in his own hands, and she looks at it, at first in admiration, then she tries to conceal her real feelings and says: «Yeah, that’s pretty,» unimpressed.

Nicolò grins: «Only pretty? Anna, don’t be rude.»

«You are pretty good,» she admits, with an effort.

«Thank you, yours is also pretty,» he says.

She looks at her drawing, resting on the counter. She takes it back and says: «I will re-do it,» and walks back to the table, where her sister is busy drawing what seems to be a cat. From time to time, Yusuf feels her eyes on his skin, and he catches her peeking at him more than one time.

Yusuf switches to Arabic to comments: «I have the impression that she doesn’t like me.»

«Yusuf, you worry too much. Kids at that age are just mean,» he says, laughing. «Once she told Salvo that he was prettier when he still had his hair. Marta is still making fun of him for this.»

Yusuf smiles, reassured. Then, softly, he adds: «You are so good with them.»

Nicolò shrugs: «When I was a kid, Elisa was very patient with me. She is eleven years older than me and I was the annoying kid who wanted attention from his older sister. Then, when I was eighteen, I spent nearly one year living at my sister’s place, and at the time Anna was two. I think she sees me more like a very older brother than an uncle.»

«This doesn’t change the fact that you are good with them. You are patient, you are sweet, you show them that you really care. Such a husband material.» That sentence was supposed to be a joke, but it lands differently because when Yusuf says, he means it for real. He stares at Nicolò’s eyes and he can almost read his thoughts. He panics and tries to fix it, by adding: «I mean, you-»

His pathetic attempt is interrupted by the sound of the door opening. They both turn to face the new client and Yusuf notices that Nicolò freezes. At first, he thinks that he must be still processing his joke - _good job, Yusuf, dropping it like this, like a fucking joke_ \- but then he notices that Nicolò’s eyes are fixed on the man in front of them.

His eyes shift from his boyfriend to the stranger, and he can see that the man’s reaction is no different from Nicolò’s. The man is probably their own age, but the starched shirt and the elegant trousers make him look older. He stares at his feet for some second, before murmuring:

«I didn’t know you came back.»

Nicolò doesn’t answer immediately. He takes a deep breath and his face shifts from surprise to anger in a few seconds. «Ah, I’m sorry. I forgot I needed to ask the _fucking permission_ to come back home _,_ » he spits. And suddenly, Yusuf understands who the man in front of him is.

«I don’t- I came for the weekly order. I’m sorry, my mother was supposed to come but she asked me to do it, I didn’t know- I just-»

«Whatever. Wait here, I’ll take your stuff so you can leave.»

Nicolò disappears in the back of the shop, leaving Yusuf alone in front of the man. They stare at each other, uncomfortably, and to break the silence, the stranger turns to the girls and says: «Hi, girls, how are you?»

«Ciao, Stefano,» says Anna, without even raising her eyes, but confirming Yusuf’s suspicion. «Joe, Sofia, and I are drawing while zio Nico works.»

«Joe?» he asks, looking puzzled at Yusuf. «Are you a new shop assistant?»

«He’s with me,» says Nicolò sharply, coming back with a large box. He drops it on the counter, a little too abruptly to be non-intentional. «Here’s your order. Now you can go.»

Stefano takes the box but remains still in front of them. «Listen, I’m sorry for-»

«I don’t care about your apologies. Your words mean nothing to me.»

«I was hoping we could talk. We have never talked since _then_.»

«Oh, you mean since you lied in front of your father and my whole family to save your ass?»

«Please, Nico, can we not have this conversation in front of everyone?» he asks, looking vaguely at the two girls, but ultimately tilting his head at Yusuf.

«Whatever you have to tell me, you can say it in front of him. He already knows the story,» he says, and instinctively he grasps Yusuf’s arm, looking for his soothing presence. Yusuf discretely slips one hand behind his back, touching his hip, letting him know that he is there for him.

«I’m just asking you for five minutes. Only five minutes and then I will leave you alone.» Stefano stares at him, waiting for an answer. Nicolò turns to Yusuf, silently asking for advice, but this time Yusuf can’t help him. Part of him wants to kick Stefano out of the shop for all the things that he did, but at the same time, he knows that for Nicolò this is still an open wound and that the lack of a real closure still hurts him, even after years.

Nicolò remains silent for several seconds, before saying: «Fine. Five minutes. Then you take your shit and leave.»

«Five minutes. I don’t ask for more,» he says, walking in the direction of the door.

Nicolò follows him but, before exiting, he stares one last time at Yusuf. He looks like he is about to say something, but then he turns his head and closes the door behind himself.

Nicolò feels the tension in his body growing at every step, while he leaves the shop with Stefano. He hates himself for this, he hates how much he is still shaken by what happened, by the mere presence of him.

It feels weird to stand so close to him. After that fateful night, nearly six years ago, he hasn’t spoken to him, not even a polite greeting. They have been avoiding each other with surgical precision, which hasn’t been easy in such a small village as theirs, especially during the holidays, when both of them were coming home. Now Nicolò wonders if this feeling has been going both ways for all these years, or if Stefano has been wanting to contact him before but simply couldn’t find the courage to speak.

And now he is standing in front of the guy that once had been his world, his everything, and now is just a name he can’t say anymore.

Stefano speaks first, beginning their conversation with: «I find you well. I heard that you graduated, congratulations.»

«You don’t want to waste your five minutes with small talk, do you?» he says, tapping his feet nervously.

«No, you are right. It’s just that it is not easy.»

Nicolò laughs bitterly and shakes his head: «You are right, it is not easy. It hasn’t been easy, all these years, having to stay apart from my family, being blackmailed by your father, feeling like I wasn’t welcome in my homeplace anymore.»

«I’m sorry for how things went. I was young and confused and I was scared of how my father would have reacted.»

«See, this is why I avoided you for all these years,» says Nicolò. «Because even when you say that you want to apologize, what you really do is justifying what you did. There are no justifications, Stefano, not in your situation. You think that my parents were enthusiastic about finding out that their son was gay in that way? Do you think my father immediately accepted me, that my brothers were totally fine with it, like no big deals? Do you know how many _years_ it took for me to be able to trust someone in my life again?»

«I’m sorry.»

«And you better fucking be. You fucked up my life, you realize that? And no amounts of apologies could fix that, no amounts of apologies could give me back the years I spent hating myself.»

Stefano remains silent for nearly a minute, incapable of speaking. Then he nods and says: «I understand. At least, I’m happy you found someone.» He turns to face the shop, spotting Yusuf’s figure behind the counter. Nicolò turns as well. It is clear that Yusuf is trying not to stare, to leave him the space to solve this matter on his own, but he can see him checking on them, from time to time, making sure the situation doesn’t go out of hands. «That Joe, he seems a nice guy.»

«He is. Yusuf is a fantastic person and I’m very happy with him, thank you.»

«Good. I want you to know that I still care about you.»

«No, you don’t. You _say_ that you care, but if you did, your father wouldn’t be tormenting my family as he keeps doing. So, if you really want to apologize, if you want to show me that you changed, then tell your father to stop with his blackmails, to leave my family alone. Now, take your stuff and go.»

«My five minutes aren’t done.»

Nicolò doesn’t even answer him, leaving him on the street and going back to the shop. As he closes the door behind himself, he leans against one of the shelves, clinging to it while he feels his legs trembling. Yusuf literally jumps from behind the corner, reaching him and taking his hand.

«I’m okay, I swear,» he murmurs, his breath broken, his heart pounding in his chest. «I just- I need-» he can’t finish the sentence, as tears start running down his eyes, and his voice is broken by a sob. In their years together, Yusuf has seen him crying maybe two times and every time he reacted in the only way he knew. He hugs him tightly, cupping his hand on the back of his head and holding him against his chest.

«It’s okay, Nico, I’m here. I’m here,» he murmurs, brushing his nose against his cheek, stroking softly the soft skin of his neck.

Anna and Sofia raise their noses from their drawings. They don’t understand why their uncle is crying, too young to understand that kind of pain that accumulates in the chest, year after year, and it becomes one whole unmovable block, until something comes and breaks it, making everything crumble. They leave the table and reach them. Anna hugs him tenderly, sinking her face in his chest, and Nicolò smiles when he realizes how much she grew up in that year, as he holds her close, while Sofia mirrors her sister’s behavior, hugging one of his legs.

Nicolò can’t really say how much they remain like this, tangled together in silence, until his legs stop trembling, his heart stop aching, and he finally manages to breathe again.


	2. The sea

Part II: The sea

Nicolò doesn’t mention Stefano anymore. Yusuf wants to ask him what happened, if Stefano said something that wounded him more than he already did, six years before, he wants to know if their discussion will have consequences. But Nicolò closes himself in his shell, as he often does when certain subjects are mentioned, and puts on a fake smile for the rest of the morning. At half past twelve, they close the shop and head back home, where they eat together at the kitchen table. 

Even Anna is weirdly quiet while she munches her portion of pasta and this time it is Sofia’s turn to fill the room with her mindless chatting. Nicolò’s parents come back around two, as they promised, and they find Sofia quietly sleeping on the couch, while Anna watches cartoons on television, next to her uncle and Yusuf. 

When his parents ask him about the morning, Nicolò doesn’t mention Stefano at all, but asks them if he can take the car. His father throws him the keys, while his mother tells them that dinner will be ready at eight.

Anna insists on going with them, but Rosanna convinces her to stay at home and Nicolò is thankful for his mother’s readiness. They leave the house and jump in the old red Cinquecento, so small that Yusuf has to be careful as he sits on the passenger seat.

«Where are we going?» he asks.

«Far,» Nicolò answers, pressing the foot on the accelerator. He drives quietly but fast, soon leaving the small cluster of houses of the village behind until in their sight there are only golden fields and the narrow road in front of them. 

After driving for fifteen minutes in silence, Yusuf takes some courage to speak. «Nico, you are scaring me. Please, say something.»

Nicolò stops the car, abruptly, along the desert road. The fields are silent, there is no sound except the loud chirping of the cicadas. Nicolò turns to him and takes his face in his hands, pulling him into a hungry kiss. Yusuf tastes the need, the desperation that hides in that gesture, in his short breath, in his pounding heart. 

He gently brushes his thumbs against his cheeks and breaks the kiss, resting gently his forehead against Nicolò’s. He seeks his eyes, finding them pleading and lost. Then he feels Nicolò’s hand moving from the back of his neck to his crotch, playing with his sex from over the trousers. 

«Nico,» he murmurs, trying to call him back from the far-away place where he fell. 

He doesn’t answer, but he opens the zip of Yusuf’s trousers and slips his hand into his boxers. Yusuf’s breath is cut short by the unexpected contact and a low moan leaves his mouth.

«Nico,» he murmurs again, this time being less convincing.

«Yusuf,» he murmurs back, the first word he has spoken in that time. He kisses him again, moving towards him, pressing him against his seat while stroking him with his hand.

«Slow down,» he pants, but Nicolò doesn’t listen, too far away, too deaf to hear. There is a part of Nicolò that still scares Yusuf, something dark and creepy that hides in his chest, waiting for its moment to come up again. «Nico, slow down, you don’t need to - »

«Tell me that you need it,» he whispers in his ear, his voice so husky and low that Yusuf feels it in his stomach. But when he finally finds some strength left in him, he manages to say:

«Nicolò, stop it.»

This time, Nicolò stops. He withdraws his hand and leans his head against his chest. After few seconds, his body is shaken by the heavy sobs, for the second time that day. Yusuf, who before that morning could have counted the times he has seen Nicolò’s crying in one hand and still miss some fingers, holds him tight and lets him cry.

If that morning Nicolò tried to hold himself, if not for his own pride at least not to worry the girls, this time he doesn’t make the effort. Yusuf brushes his hand up and down his back, without saying a word. 

«I thought I was over it. I thought he couldn’t do me any more harm,» Nicolò mutters, «I thought I was stronger than this.»

«You are strong, Nico. You are brave and strong, and you handled that conversation better than I could have.»

«The moment I saw him coming in the shop, my mind went back to our youth, when he used to come every afternoon and we spent the time studying in the back of the shop. I saw him coming and a part of me, a part of my stupid brain thought “Oh, he’s here for me” and I hate myself for this, I hate myself for having loved him, I hate it, I hate it so much.»

«He is in the past. You have your life now, you have your degree, you have me.»

«That is the problem. He is not in the past. He can still hurt me and my family.» He moves away from Yusuf, hiding his face and he breathes heavily, bearing the pain on his chest. He opens the door of the car and gets off. Yusuf quickly follows him, afraid of what he could do. «This used to be my world, my place, but I don’t feel at home anymore. Every time that I come back, I feel stranger and stranger until one day this will be a foreign place for me, and I will be left without a home.»

«You have London and - » _And Paris, if you want. We can have Paris, together, it can become our new home, we can build a new life together, Nicolò, I want to build this new life with you._ But words die in his throat. _Tell him, Yusuf, tell him how you feel, tell him that you need him._

«I feel so lost. I feel as if I were in the middle of a storm with nothing to hold on.»

«You have me. You will always have me,» says Yusuf.

Nicolò nods, absently, and then smiles in his direction, reaching out his hand. Yusuf takes it, moving closer. This time, when they kiss, there is no hunger, no desperation. Their lips brushes and meet and their breaths become one, their muffled voices overwhelmed by the cicadas.

«Show me this place,» Yusuf murmurs softly against his skin. «Show me the place you call your home.»

They take the rest of the afternoon for themselves, wandering for the quiet fields, walking hand in hand where nobody can see them, enjoying the restless sun of August, the shimmering light of the summer.

Still no mentions of Stefano the following day, that they spend in Genova. Nicolò shows him the city, focusing on the main attractions, like the aquarium, some churches and old palaces, and the _Lanterna_ , the harbor’s lighthouse, that, according to Nicolò’s explanation, is the highest of the Mediterranean Sea.

Yusuf enjoys the atmosphere of the city as well as the delicious dinner at one of the fish restaurants close to the harbor. After spending the entire day walking around the city, he nearly falls asleep in the car, while Nicolò drives safely and silently from the city to his village. When they arrive home, Yusuf is shaken by the gentle brush of Nicolò’s hand on his shoulder and he manages to walk from the car to their room, his legs still numb, which is a pretest to wrap his arms around Nicolò’s neck and letting him slides a hand on his hips, while they move upstairs.

«If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you are drunk,» whispers Nicolò, quietly not to wake up anyone.

«I’m drunk. Drunk of you,» he says, trying to kiss him on the cheek.

«Sappy,» he laughs, when Yusuf’s beard tickles the sensitive skin of his neck. But as soon as they reach the second floor, he stiffens, parting from Yusuf’s embrace and murmurs: «A - Anna, what are you doing awake?»

The girl stands in front of them in her yellow pajama, brushing her sleepy eyes with her hands. «I can’t sleep,» she murmurs. She looks at Yusuf and then back at her uncle. «Can you stay with me for a while?»

Nicolò turns quickly to his boyfriend, tilting his head in the direction of the bathroom, to tell him to go ahead while he takes care of his niece. He follows her in her room, where Sofia is already sleeping. Anna climbs back on her bed and Nicolò sits next to her. 

«Do you miss home? Is this why you can’t sleep?» he asks, but she shakes her head vigorously. «Okay, then, did you fight with Sofia?» She shakes her head again. He sights, tousling her hair. «Then you should - »

«Where did you go, today?» she asks.

Nicolò is taken off guard by the question. «I went to Genova. I wanted to show the city to Joe, since he has never been there before.»

She pouts and turns her head, facing the wall. «Sure.»

«What’s the problem, Anna?»

«You like him more than you like me. Usually, we spend time together, I can talk to you about everything and you listen to me, and I help you when you cook and… and now you spend all the time with him.»

Nicolò sighs, realizing that Yusuf, once again, was right and Anna was indeed angry with him. 

«Anna,» he murmurs. «Joe is very important to me. I brought him here because I wanted him to meet all of you, because you are also very important to me. And it would make me so much happy if you could get along. Can you give him a chance?» he asks.

She doesn’t answer and keeps staring at the wall, until Nicolò tickles her and she can’t help but laugh. After calming down, she remains silent and finally, after a painful minute, says: «Fine.»

«Thank you,» he says, pinching her nose. «Now, try to get some sleep.»

She nods and he leaves the room. He finds Yusuf already in bed, struggling to stay awake. After the first night, they moved Nicolò’s old bed next to the bottom one, which allowed them to sleep together without squeezing in the small mattress. He sits on the mattress, still completely dressed, and plays with his hair.

With his eyes already closed, Yusuf asks: «Is everything okay?»

«Yeah, don’t worry.» He stares at his untamed curls. He has let them grow in the last months and now they cover his forehead, making it simply irresistible to pass his hand through his hair, especially when he’s so helpless, so vulnerable. After one year and a half together, it still surprises him how much he loves him, how lucky he has been to have that time with him.

_ Will it always be like this? Or will the world manage to drift us apart? _

This kind of thoughts are not new to him, and whenever they infest his head, he tries to ignore them, knowing that they can do no good. When he brushes his thumb on his cheekbone, tracing the shapes of his face, Yusuf murmurs something, his voice muffled by the pillow pressed against his mouth.

«Come to sleep,» he says. 

«In few minutes,» he promises. In those years, he got used to their sleeping position, at the point that he struggles falling asleep if he doesn’t feel Yusuf’s comforting body against his back, and those rare nights when he has to sleep alone, he presses himself against the wall. But in that position, he can’t admire Yusuf’s relaxed expression, the freckles on his cheeks, more evident in the summer, his long and elegant eyelashes, his pink lips, slightly parted, so tempting.

When he comes back from the bathroom and slips into his bed, Yusuf is already asleep.

The cold shower is a refreshing break from the constant heat of the summer. Yusuf comes out of the bathroom and reaches their room. Nicolò is lying on his bed, reading the book Ibrahim gave him in Tunis. He’s wearing a worn-out t-shirt, the graphic so faded that it is almost unreadable, and a pair of short that Yusuf has previously defined: “the obscenest pair of short I’ve ever seen, but your ass looks great in those”. 

When he enters the room, he notices how Nicolò shifts his gaze from the page of his book to him and smiles.

«Like what you see?» he asks.

«Always,» he answers with a smirk. Then he places the book in a safer position, clear sign that his priorities have changed. Yusuf is pleased to know that he is, most likely, his top priority in that moment.

«Should I get dressed or - »

«We are home alone, for the first time since we left London.» Yusuf shivers. Because being alone means that he won’t have to muffle his whines against the pillow, that he won’t have to eat Nicolò’s moans from his lips. He comes closer to him, and Nicolò reaches out his hand, placing it on his hip, playing with the towel that covers him. 

«And what would you do to me?»

«I don’t know,» he says, pretending to think about it, when Yusuf knows that he has no doubts in his mind. That probably he has been planning this since his parents left with his nieces, that morning, right after breakfast. He pulls him closer and says: «We could start by removing this.» With one, smooth move he removes the towel, leaving him naked. From his position, still sitting on his bed, his face is at the perfect height to leave a trail of slow, lascivious kisses on his pubis, which has an immediate effect on Yusuf. After their first night in Italy, Nicolò shaved, his skin now smooth and pleasing to the touch.

Yusuf passes his hand under his chin, making him raise his face to meet his eyes. Then he bends to kiss him and at that point, Nicolò pulls him until they fall on their beds and drags him into the kiss that Yusuf initially planned. 

«You are not naked enough,» he murmurs on his ear.

«And what are you going to do about it?» he asks, with a teasing smirk. Yusuf grabs his hips and lowers his obscene shorts as well as his briefs, revealing his already half-hard cock. 

«I could leave you with the t-shirt on,» he says.

Nicolò looks down at his t-shirt and comments: «You want to fuck while I’m wearing a church group t-shirt?»

Yusuf looks down at the t-shirt, only now noticing the faded words. «Too blasphemous?» he asks, and doesn’t wait for an answer, as he helps Nicolò removing it. He doesn’t regret his decision, when he feels their chests pressed together, skin on skin. «So, what did you have in mind?»

«I might have done some preparation in the shower,» he says. Yusuf moves his fingers from his face down to his hole and plays with the rim, finding a confirmation to his words.

«You had planned all of this,» he comments. «Mind if I check your work? Not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t want to play just half of the game.»

«The lube is right under the bed.»

Yusuf checks and, indeed, the lube is right after the bed, set in a strategical position. Nicolò really had everything planned. He opens the bottle with a loud pop and pours a generous amount of lube on his fingers. He teases the ring of muscles, watching the delightful expressions drawn on Nicolò’s face. When he pushes the first finger in, he finds almost no resistance and gains a sigh of relief from his boyfriend. He doesn’t wait before adding a second finger and pushes in until the knuckle. Nicolò arches his back, pushing against his fingers, seeking more contact. 

Yusuf cannot blame him for his greediness, as he is no different from him, when their positions are reversed. And when it’s Nicolò’s turn to prepare him, to play his body like an instrument, to pushes his fingers seeking for that spot that -

When he finds it, Nicolò’s moans fill the room. «Fuck, yes, right there!» he mumbles absently, already blinded by pleasure. It’s at that point that Yusuf withdraws his fingers, not without a complaint from Nicolò.

«How do you want it?» he asks.

Nicolò doesn’t hesitate, knowing exactly what he wants. «I want to be able to look at you. I want you to bend me and fuck me like you know I like.»

That’s everything he needed. He pours some more lube on his cock and then presses the tip against his hole. He likes to tease him, he likes to see him all flustered. His calm and composed Nicolò, always so formal, always so well mannered. It is always a pleasure to wreck him, to shatter him into pieces and then recompose him with his fingers like a puzzle.

When he finally pushes in, he is rewarded by a loud moan. Fucking finally. It has been way too long. Some days before leaving for Tunis, Nicolò had fucked him gently on their bed in London, taking his time to prepare him and then making it last as long as possible, until Yusuf was reduced to a whining mess and only then he started touching him. In the past weeks, Yusuf has thought about that night more often than he was willing to, when they had to settle for quick hand jobs and blowjobs. Now he will have a new memory to take him company during long cold showers. 

As promised, he grabs Nicolò’s ankles and pushes his legs against his chest, leaving him even more open and vulnerable, and allowing himself to push even deeper.

«How does it feel?» he asks.

«Good,» he mumbles, his mouth dry, his heart pounding in his chest. «Now, move please.»

Yusuf is happy to oblige. He pushes, forcing his body to bend and enjoying the new angle. Judging by Nicolò’s expression, he’s enjoying it as well. Nicolò cups a hand behind his neck and pulls him down in a kiss, devouring his lips. Yusuf slows down with his trusts, synching the movements of their bodies. He would never get used to the heavenly sensation of sinking in his body, of watching him be blinded by pleasure.

«Do you like it?» It’s a rhetorical question, and anyway Yusuf already knows the answer. But Nicolò has always been quiet during sex, always keeping his feelings for himself. During their time together, he has improved a lot, he has become more vocal about his needs and his preferences, but sometimes he needs a little reminder. 

«Yes,» he murmurs, free of the shame. «Yes, I love it.»

«Then, make me hear you,» he whispers on his ear, and Nicolò obeys, moaning louder, letting himself go, while he feels all the stress accumulated in those weeks melting on the mattress. He throws his head behind, exposing his neck for Yusuf to kiss it, devouring it from his Adam’s apple to his ear, back and forth. 

And in between the moans, Nicolò manages to form a coherent thought, enough to say: «I love you.» Those three simple words are pronounced so neatly compared to the confused rambling of “yes” and “more please” that came before, that they cannot be mistaken.

It’s not the first time they say that to each other, and it’s not the first time one of them lets it slip during sex, but for some reasons, it hits Yusuf like a punch in the stomach and he stops frozen, staring at Nicolò in awe.

He can almost read Nicolò’s confusion in his eyes, seeking for his, waiting in the sudden silence of the room. And he bends again, cupping his face with his hands, kissing his lips like precious, treasured things, murmuring:

«I love you, Nico, I love you so much.» And all the confusion, all the fears, disappear from his expression, like a kid that after being lost in the wood finally finds the path for going home. And while he kisses him again, he murmurs those words again and again against his lips without them ever losing their meaning, like a sword that never loses its sharpness, that strikes his heart like the first time, like all the times.

«Yusuf, I - »

Nicolò’s sentence is interrupted by a noise that makes them freeze. The click of a lock, coming from downstairs, followed by the loud voices that they immediately identified as belonging to Nicolò’s brothers calling their names.

«Fuck!» That’s the first thing that Yusuf instinctively shouts, which  - in hindsight  - he would find ironic, seen that it was exactly what he was very happily doing. He pulls out, way too quickly, and Nicolò gasps for the sudden loss. «What are they doing _here_?»

«I don’t know!» says Nicolò, jumping from the bed and seeking his underwear, that Yusuf threw away after undressing him. To wear his briefs over his still hard cock is almost painful. He looks at his boyfriend, who is desperately in search of a pair of boxers.

«Yusuf, this is not a good time to question which pair of boxers fits better with your outfit.»

«Fuck, I can’t find - Found it!» he shouts, grabbing the first pair he can find in his suitcase, while Nicolò looks for his trousers  - possibly not the obscene shorts that he was wearing after the shower.

They hear the voice of Leonardo calling their names again, this time closer than before.

«We are coming,» he replies, as he manages to quickly wear the t-shirt he was wearing before. Yusuf has just put on a pair of jeans and Nicolò still has his trousers at the knee level when the door opens. For a quick second Leonardo sees them, widens his eyes at the sudden realization of what he just witnessed, and slams the door behind. Nicolò snorts and sighs: «Fuck.»

They stare at each other, Yusuf still bare chest and Nicolò with his trousers that now have fallen to his ankles. 

Yusuf tries to say: «Maybe he didn’t - »

« _Yusuf._ » Nicolò’s tone doesn’t leave space to doubts and Yusuf is forced to admit that he is right. There is no way Leonardo didn’t understand what he had interrupted, especially seeing his first reaction was slamming the door behind and disappearing without a word.

«I know it’s not a good moment to ask, but how much _exactly_ they know about your sex life?» Yusuf asks.

«My brothers? For what they know I could be a virgin. Well, until now.»

Yusuf snorts, sinking his face in his hands, while Nicolò passes him a t-shirt. «How awkward will it be?»

«Okay, imagine if this happened at your house, with your parents. But make it worse.»

«You are not helping, Nico,» he moans, wearing the t-shirt. «So, now what do we do?»

«Now we go downstair and we pretend this never happened,» says Nicolò, in such a resolute tone that at first Yusuf thinks he must be sarcastic. But Nicolò is dead serious.

«Come on, Nico, they are what? Twentynine? They must know what we do, when we are not interrupted.»

«Oh, they imagine, probably, but they don’t want to know. It has always been like this in this family. It’s fine, as long as they don’t have to witness anything,» he comments, his voice so bitter that it makes Yusuf sad. But before he can say anything, Nicolò adds: «Let’s go downstair. The more we wait, the worse it will be.»

Yusuf follows him downstair, standing close to him, well determined to let him do the talk while he tries to blend with the walls of the house. Just to make the situation even more spicy, they realize that Pietro and Leonardo are not alone, and that Salvo and Massimo are also with them.

_ Well, at least there’s not his father _ , Yusuf thinks, considering himself lucky. 

«Nico, Yusuf,» says Leo, biting his lips. «I’m sorry, I - We were just…we were here for the tournament.»

«The tournament?» asks Nicolò, puzzled.

«It’s _Ferragosto_. The annual tournament of _Ferragosto_ ,» Pietro intervenes, pointing at the calendar, where the 15th of August has been marked with a clear red circle. «Did you forget about it?»

«We are still doing this?» Nicolò asks, rolling his eyes. «It’s not like we ever win.» Yusuf looks at him, confused, until he explains: «Every year, on the 15th of August, we play in a football tournament against other families of the village, but we never win.»

«Because someone doesn’t care enough,» Pietro comments. 

«Whatever, it’s a stupid tournament. Do I really have to play?» 

«It’s a 5-to-5 match, Nico, of course you have to play!» his brother replies.

«Unless…» Salvo murmurs, turning to Yusuf: «do you like playing football?»

Yusuf feels all the eyes on him, and he is just glad that the question they are asking is football related and not about their sexual life. «I haven’t played in a while, but yeah, I like playing.»

«Perfect,» Leonardo states. «Nico, you are out. Yusuf, you are in.»

Nicolò clicks his tongue but doesn’t complain, accepting his brother’s decision stoically. Yusuf turns to face him: «Nico, you okay with this?» he asks in Arabic, seeking a sincere answer.

The other smiles and reassures him: «It’s okay. I don’t have any particular desire to play this game and I’m happy if you get along with my brothers.»

«Okay,» he murmurs, this time with more confidence. Then he switches back to Italian to say: «I’ll be happy to play, but mind that I’m not that good.»

«To be honest,» says Pietro, patting his shoulder «I think anyone would play better than Nico – no offense, Nico – but seriously, you would save us.»

Yusuf can sense the tension in the air, the uneasiness of Leonardo, who still struggle to look at them in the eyes. He wonders what he said to the others, if they also know what they were doing, if they deduced it from Leonardo’s face or if they totally ignore it. It’s impossible to tell. Nicolò has always been difficult to read, and despite having spent so much time together, despite being constantly close to him, there are times when Yusuf still struggles understanding what’s going on inside his head. Now he understands that it must be a gene that runs in the family.

Yusuf realizes that only a crazy man would accept to play a football match on the 15th of August, under the restless sun of the Italian summer. It reminds him of the afternoons spent with his childhood friends in the football field, playing under the sun and risking a stroke. But instead of being a group of clueless twelve years old boys, it’s a bunch of sweaty men in their thirties determined to win a prize which apparently consists of a bottle of red wine and a salami.

Massimo hands him a blue t-shirt to change, in order to fit with the rest of the team. The football field is next to the church and apparently he had underestimated the importance of the event when he accepted to play. He counts other seven teams other than theirs, for a total of thirty men wandering around the field, waiting for the organizers to set the matches. Next to the field, he spots some children, waiting for their dads and their older brothers to play and some women chatting, paying little attention to the event.

He gives a last quick look at Nicolò, checking that he’s actually okay with him taking his place in what he supposes must be a family tradition, but his boyfriend seems actually relieved, rather than upset. 

«Seriously, Nico, I don’t want to steal your place - » he insists.

«Yusuf, I’m more than happy to be spared from my brothers’ snarky comments about my ability to play football. Moreover, you will enjoy this more than me. I’ll be close and enjoy the view,» he says, winking. He checks that nobody is too close to them, and then he adds, in Arabic: «And maybe, tonight, we can finish what we started.» He gives a light pat on Yusuf’s shoulder, before moving to the border of the field to sit on a bench.

Leonardo walks in his direction and says: «Okay, we are playing the first match. What role do you prefer?»

«I usually play in defense, but I can play where you prefer.»

«Defense is fine, you will play with Pietro. Me and Salvo will play in attack and Massimo as the goalie.» He looks at him, as if he was about to add something, and Yusuf wonders if he decided to discuss what happened at home _at that exact moment_ , but then Leonardo shakes his head and says: «Seriously, this match is not a big deal, we have never won. I’m sure Nicolò described Pietro and I as some football-obsessed dickheads that were mean to him  - which, okay, might be partially true  - but I care more about you having fun with all of us than winning a stupid game. So, just play and enjoy the afternoon, okay?»

Yusuf smiles and nods. «Thank you,» he murmurs. Leonardo and Pietro might look different than Nicolò, but the more he knows them, the more he realizes how similar they are. 

They run in the field, joined by the other team. Yusuf turns and gives one last look at Nicolò, who watches them from the bench and waves in his direction. Yusuf answers with a shy movement of the hand, barely noticeable by the other people watching the match.

When the referee whistles, signaling the beginning of the game, Yusuf starts running. He hasn’t played football in years, but as soon as the ball reaches his feet, he feels as if not a day has passed since he used to spend the afternoon with his friends, kicking the ball from one side to the other of the field.

The other team seems less motivated than them and after ten minutes of game, Leonardo manages to score the first goal. Five minutes later their opponents nearly score, but Yusuf easily regains the ball, saving the game. From the field he can hear people cheering for their team. When he looks in the direction of the audience, he sees Nicolò waving at him and he waves back. 

After forty-five minutes, the match ends with their victory. Salvo jumps on his back to hug him and drags the whole team with his enthusiasm. When they return to their bench, Nicolò welcomes them back with some bottles of Gatorade.

«Very well played,» he comments, with a smug smile.

«I haven’t played in years, I’m so out of practice.»

«It didn’t seem so. And my brothers are enthusiastic of your performance,» he says, gesturing at Pietro and Leo, who are deeply involved in a discussion about their strategy for the next game.

«They are taking it more seriously than I thought,» he says.

Nicolò shrugs: «My brothers are obsessed with football; in comparison, Booker is only a casual fan.» Then he notices Yusuf’s concern and he adds: «Seriously, it’s only a game. They won’t hate you even if you don’t make them win.»

«I know, but I want them to like me.»

Nicolò laughs: «If I remember correctly, you were the one telling me that I shouldn’t care about your family opinion, that I should only care about you. What’s different?»

Yusuf stares at his shoes, shyly, before admitting: «I never had a brother. And I like spending time with them, they are funny and they were actually nice to me. And I know that sometimes things can be a little bit awkward, but I really want them to like me. Is it stupid?»

Nicolò smiles warmly and rests his hand on Yusuf’s knee, murmuring: «It’s not stupid. Despite all my comments on how annoying they are, I really love them, as well as Salvo and Massimo. And I am glad you are liking them too.»

_ And maybe one day they will become my brothers-in-law _ , he finds himself thinking and immediately shakes that thought away. _Maybe he doesn’t feel this way. You never discussed marriage and maybe he doesn’t want to get married at all. And before discussing marriage, you should discuss about Paris. And_ _ - _

His thoughts are interrupted by Nicolò’s voice. «Yusuf, stop overthinking,» he says. Yusuf must look lost, because for a second Nicolò looks concerned and adds: «You don’t have to worry, they already like you. They… they can see how good you are for me, how better I feel now that I am with you. Plus, you are a lovable guy, why wouldn’t they like you?»

_ Because they clearly still have some issues with your sexuality and they nearly saw us having sex,  _ he thinks. But he simply smiles and pretends to focus on the game. The match ends after the regular forty-five minutes with a decisive win of one of the two teams, who scored five goals. Yusuf stares at them as they congratulate with each other for their victory. 

«They seem quite strong,» says Yusuf, pointing at them. 

Nicolò stiffens for a second, before saying: «That is the team of the hotel.»

«You mean - »

«Yes.» _That hotel_. Yusuf turns in the direction of the audience and he notices Stefano on the last row. Next to him there is a woman of his age, wearing a cute floral dress and a pair of sunglasses, holding his hand. He is glad that Stefano is clearly not playing in any team, because he knew that if he were to play against him in a game, he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure. He wonders if Nicolò also noticed him, and judging by the stiffness of his shoulders, he probably did.

«I want to beat them.» He knows that it doesn’t make any sense, since Stefano is not even playing for the team, that apparently is composed mostly of employees of the hotel. But it would be such a nice small revenge. He indulges on that thought until Nicolò’s voice distracts him.

«Yusuf, you don’t have to do it. They are a strong team, they basically win every year.»

«Well, not this year.» Nicolò shakes his head, smiling and Yusuf asks: «What?»

«Nothing,» he answers, and then adds in Arabic: «I’m just thinking that I want to kiss you so badly.»

Yusuf is about to answer when Salvo approaches them and tells him that they are about the play. The second game is not as easy as the first. The opponents are more skilled, and their game is solid. After twenty minutes neither of them has managed to score a goal. Yusuf is constantly pressured by the attackers of the other team. Pietro is a more experienced player than him and yet he also struggles to defend their goal. But at minute thirty-five, Yusuf manages to steal the ball from the opponent. He sees Salvo, one of the defenders running in his direction but the trajectory still free. So, he kicks the ball that reaches Salvo, who then races in the direction of the goal, chased by the closest defender. When he sees the ball hitting the net, Yusuf’s heart leaps in his chest and he feels the same sheer joy of when he was playing with his friends, in their small field next to the school.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and he turns around to see Pietro patting his back and saying: «Great play, Yusuf!» while Leo and Salvo hug each other to celebrate. Once again, Yusuf stares back at the bench and spots Nicolò raising his thumbs to reaffirm his approval. The last ten minutes are even harder than the previous thirty-five, as the other team tries so desperately to score a goal, but Massimo manages to stop any attempt and when the referee announces the end of the match, Yusuf is too tired to even celebrate properly. 

They all reach the border of the field, where Nicolò is waiting for them. Leo and Pietro are overexcited about being in the final and Salvo seems to share their enthusiasm. Massimo sits next to Yusuf and pats his shoulder and congratulates for his game.

«Yusuf, my man,» says Leo, sitting between him and Nicolò, pushing his brother aside. «We are in the final match, it hasn’t happened since 2012, I think. Usually we get kicked out after the first match. Now, I don’t want to put more pressure on you, but we might actually win.»

«Next match is going to be against the hotel team. It won’t be easy,» says Pietro. Yusuf spots the twins’ eyes flinging on their brother, to check his reaction, while Nicolò pretends to ignore the conversation. «But they are not invincible.»

«So, when it will be our time, we’ll go there and fight at the best of our force,» Leo concludes.

Nicolò rolls his when he says: «Jesus Christ, you are so overdramatic.»

«Shut up,» says Leo, pushing him «we are defending the family honor, here.» At which Nicolò rolls his eyes even stronger, if possible. «By the way, if you want to be helpful, can you buy more water? We didn’t hope to play three matches.»

«Are you for real?» he asks, thinking they must be joking. They are not. «Okay, fine!» He walks away from the field and reaches the bar that is right next to the church. He waves at the elders sitting at the small tables in the square and they wave back, before returning to their card game. He enters the bar, where he finds Maria behind the counter.

«Hi, Nico! How is it going?» she asks. 

«Surprisingly well. They just won the second match, which is why they sent me here to pick more water.»

Maria smiles, picking some water bottles from behind the counter, while Nicolò pinches the cheeks of his nephew, sitting in his stroller, and gaining a sweet giggle from the toddler. «You’re not playing?» Maria asks, noticing that he’s not wearing the uniform and that he’s not sweaty. 

«I gladly left Yusuf take my place in the team, he’s enjoying this more than I would.»

«You really found a fine guy,» she comments, lining the bottles of water on the counter. «Just so you know, we all like him. He’s well-mannered and funny and, if I may, very good looking.»

Nicolò blushes, hiding his face from his sister-in-law. «I really like him.»

«We can see that.» Then she winks and says: «Come on, go back to the field. Tell Pietro that if he hurts himself while playing, he better not come home because I will finish him.»

«I will report the message,» he answers with a laugh, takes the bottles and leaves. As he exits the bar, he bumps against someone and stops to apologize. His words die in his mouth. He has never officially met her, but he recognizes Stefano’s wife immediately. He has seen her sitting next to Stefano, during the tournament, and he has seen her two years before, when they weren’t married yet, coming out of the church with Stefano’s family on a Sunday morning. He might not be into women, but he has to admit that she’s really beautiful.

«Sorry,» he mutters, already intentioned to run away.

«Wait, you are Nicolò, right?» He freezes and slowly turns to face her. «I’m sorry, I didn’t want to sound like a stalker. You are Leonardo’s brother, no? I saw you in the field, your team is playing well.»

«Thanks,» he answers, cautiously, trying to hide his discomfort.

«I am Laura, Stefano’s wife. I was curious to know you, after hearing so much about you.»

«About me?» 

«Yeah, Stefano always tells me the funniest stories about your years together.»

Nicolò feels his heart leaping in his chest. Did he tell her everything? Well, for sure not everything, otherwise she would know about the bad blood between their families. But for what he knows, Stefano might be bisexual and maybe he didn’t hide their past relationship to his wife. She is an educated young woman from Milan, she is surely enough open-minded to be okay with that.

«He has so many pictures of you in high school and he always tells me how good of a friend you were. I’m glad I was finally able to meet you.»

_ He didn’t tell her anything _ , he thinks. For a moment, he actually thought that maybe Stefano had been sincere with the woman he’s supposed to share the rest of his life with, but of course that wasn’t the case.

«I’m rarely at home, in these days. I live abroad now.»

«Stefano told me. London, right? Must be exciting.»

And at that moment he realizes. _I could have my revenge. I could just tell her everything we did, the afternoons spent in the back of my parents’ shop, when we were making out instead of doing our homework, the things he used to tell me, the names he used to call me._ And sure, maybe she wouldn’t believe him, maybe she would say he is lying. _I could tell her exactly how it was like to kiss him, how he moaned when I was kissing him on the neck, how he liked to bite my bottom lip before parting. The short-breathed whimpers he was making when I touched him in the way he liked it, our quick hand jobs in his car, parked in the middle of nowhere, where nobody could see us. The scar he has next to his pubis, from when he fell from his bicycle, and the way he blushed when I first touched it. I could tell her so many things and ask her: “Does he still loses his ability to speak when you take his cock in your mouth? Does he ask you for more and more, does he still make that funny face when he finally reaches the orgasm? Does he call you the most beautiful? Does he tell you that he cannot imagine his life without you? And finally, did he ever beg you to fuck him?”_

He could be very graphic in his descriptions. Just a few words and he doesn’t doubt that his wife would believe him. He could ruin his life and his marriage, and it would be so simple. It would be so satisfying. And for a moment he actually considers that. He almost prepares a speech in his mind and opens his mouth but then he stops.

_ What am I doing?  _ He gasps, taking a step back. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want that revenge. And not because of how his actions could also have an impact on his family  - well, also that, - but because he wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror. Because this is not the man he wants to be, hateful and resentful. He has his life, now, his life with Yusuf, and if he really wants to go on and forget about his past, he has to let it go.

«I’m sorry, I really have to go,» he says, maybe too sharply, so he adds: «It was nice to meet you.» She looks confused by his lack of interest in joining the conversation, but he doesn’t leave her time to ask and just walks away.

When he gets back to the field, he throws the bottles to his brothers, reporting Maria’s warning to Pietro. He sits next to Yusuf and hands him a bottle as well. His boyfriend notices immediately that something is off and stares at him, a puzzled expression drawn on his face. Nicolò tilts his head in the direction of the Stefano, and Yusuf turns just in time to see Laura fixing her dress and sitting next to him.

«Was she rude to you?» He switches to Arabic, to avoid having Nicolò’s family eavesdropping on their conversation.

Nicolò shakes his head: «She is clueless. She thought we were high school friends.» He hesitates before admitting: «Part of me wanted to spill the truth.»

«But you didn’t.»

«It’s none of my business. I don’t want to open that can of worms.» Yusuf rests his hand on his knee, squeezing it, and Nicolò smiles. He wants to kiss him so badly, but he knows he can’t. Not there, at least. He can only close his eyes and think of what they were doing that morning, before being interrupted by his brothers. That memory will be enough until that night.

Salvatore taps Yusuf shoulder to catch his attention and says: «It’s time.»

The other team is already on the field and Yusuf can have a look on them. They don’t look intimidating: after all, they are only a bunch of men in their late twenties and mid-thirties that had just finished playing a football match under the restless sun of August. If anything, they look like they could use a shower. But he has just seen them winning their last match 4 to 1, so he knows it won’t be an easy game.

Leonardo reaches the captain of the other team to shake his hand.

«You played well, this year. You should be happy of this result,» says the captain. «So, no hard feelings when we’ll beat you, okay?»

Yusuf can spot the vein on Leonardo’s neck pulsing, while he shakes the hand more vigorously than expected and says: «Sure, no hard feelings.» Then Leo approaches Yusuf and says: «Do you remember when I told you that we were here to have fun and that winning wasn’t important? Well, I was lying. I want to destroy them.»

«No hard feelings, uh?» he asks, with a smirk.

«Let’s play.»

The pace is completely different from the other two matches. Since the very first minute, it is clear that the other team is playing to win, and Yusuf has to adjust his way of playing. The following ten minutes are spent mostly in their half of the field, with the attackers of the other team constantly chasing their goal.

Yusuf manages to regain the ball and the game moves on the other half of the field but ends with the opponent goalie stopping the ball before they could score. 

From time to time, Yusuf turns to the bench to look at Nicolò, who is sitting on the edge of his seat, following the match religiously. He can’t help but smile when he thinks about all the times that he watched the game with Booker while and uninterested Nicolò was reading on the armchair. How different he looks now, completely caught in the game.

At minute twenty, the other team scores a goal. He has learnt enough Italian to understand the flourished swears that come from his team members, even though he might have missed some of the cursing in Sicilian coming from Salvo. He can see the other team celebrating the goal and he feels something in his guts. He has never been competitive, not in the way young boys typically are pushed to be. He liked playing football with his friends and he liked winning  - who doesn’t?  - but he never really cared. Now, instead, he feels his blood boiling and the adrenaline pushes him to run even faster and regain the ball, stealing it from an attacker of the other team. He sees Leonardo near the mid-field line and he passes the ball to him. Leo dribbles the defender that was trying to stop him and scores.

This time it’s their turn to celebrate. He can see the other team swearing and yelling at each other, the captain blaming the defender and the defender blaming the attacker who let Yusuf steal the ball in the first place. Yusuf can’t help but smile, especially when Salvo hugs him to celebrate, messing up his hair before letting him go and yelling “that’s my man”, while Pietro and Leo high-five.

After their goal, the other team becomes even more aggressive in their game. Yusuf knows they must be exhausted and that they cannot possibly keep that pace for long. When he watches in the direction of Nicolò, he lets them know that only five minutes of game are left.

_ Whoever scores now is going to win _ , he realizes. _We can actually win. We can do it_. That thought gives him the strength to keep playing. He is also exhausted, and he can imagine that the others must be even more tired than him. Salvo, in particular, is becoming slower and slower every minute, and his face is of a worrying red color. _I only need one opportunity_.

And the opportunity comes in the shape of a slack passing from one attacker to the other, when Yusuf manages to intercept the ball. Both Leo and Salvo are chased by the defenders, so Yusuf decides to move in the direction of the goal. He can see the attackers of the other team running in his direction. He doesn’t know where he finds that final glimpse of strength to leave them behind, when he’s reasonably close to the goal he checks one last time where the rest of his team is, but they are all too far to score.

_ Now or never _ , he thinks and kicks the ball. He sees the goalkeeper diving in the direction of the ball. Too late. The ball hits the net and then falls on the ground. He can hear his teammates hauling as they crowd around him. At that point there are only few minutes left before the end of the game. The other team tries to score but they are too tired and Pietro menages to defend their goal before they can even aim at it. 

When the referee finally whistles to attest the end of the game, Yusuf lets himself smile. His first thought is Nicolò, who is cheering for him from the bench. Leo and Pietro are hugging each other, and their sheer happiness is almost cute. Then they wave at Yusuf, inviting him to reach them and join the hug. 

«We did it! Fuck, I can’t believe we did it!» they shout. 

«And we did it because of you,» Pietro adds. 

«You better come back, next year, because we are counting on you.»

Yusuf feels a warm sensation filling his chest, thinking that there will be another year, another year with his Nicolò, another year to love him and to grow with him. 

But their happiness is interrupted when they see the captain of the other team marching in their direction, furious. They turn to face him, and Yusuf can spot Nicolò standing from the bench to witness the scene and quickly reaching them.

«No hard feelings, uh?» Leo says, but the other man doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke.

«Quit your bullshit. We all know how you won.»

«Yeah, by scoring more goals than you. These are the rules of the game,» Pietro replies, stepping next to his brother.

«First of all, who the fuck is this?» he asks, pointing at Yusuf, angrily.

« _This_ is our guest, and anyway there are no strict rules about who can or cannot play, as long as they are not professional. Last year you had that friend from Genova playing in your team and nobody complained. So why don’t you just admit that you lost?»

«No wonder you won this year,» he says, shrugging. «You didn’t have that _finocchio_ of your brother playing for your team.»

It happens so fast that Yusuf cannot even tell what exactly is going on. Did that man just call Nicolò a _fennel?_ But one second after he can see Leo pulling the captain of the other team by his shirt and he looked angrier than he has ever seen him.

«How did you call my brother?»

«You heard me, but I can use other words if you want.»

«Don’t try me, I - »

«Leo, enough.» This time it’s Nicolò speaking. He has reached them from the bench and is putting himself between the captain of the other team and his brother. 

«But he - »

« _Enough_.» His voice is so sharp and resolute the two contenders step back, eyeing at each other. Yusuf realizes that their small fight has caught the interest of the audience, but he’s confident that nobody actually heard what was going on. Nicolò grabs his brother by his t-shirt and drags him away. «Let’s try not to ruin the day, okay?»

«Did you hear how he called you?»

«Not here, Leo. Take your fucking prize so we can go home.»

Leo murmurs something before shrugging and reaching the organizes to collect the prize. However, despite the recent victory, the mood of the team is ruined. Yusuf quickly moves to Nicolò and asks:

«What happened? Did that guy call you “fennel”?»

Nicolò lowers his gaze, as if _he_ was ashamed, before answering: «That is a slur. For gay men.»

_ Oh _ . He wants to say something, but words fail to come. Nicolò notices his embarrassed silence and shakes his head, as if it was nothing, which makes everything even sadder. 

«As I said, let’s not ruin the day.» The bitterness of his words is impossible to miss.

The members of the other teams reach them to congratulate. They all wear their best smile and try to look convincing, but it is almost a bless when they finally manage to leave.

As soon as they are alone, far from the crowd, Leonardo turns to Nicolò and shouts: «Why didn’t you let me beat him? Why are you not angry at him?»

«I am angry, but why should I be offended. Isn’t that what I am?»

Leonardo seems caught off guard by that answer. He gasps, still unsure what to reply. «This is not - You are not - »

«I am not what? Gay?»

«That’s not the word he used.»

«No, he used a slur because for him it is an insult.»

«It’s different. Sure, you are gay, but you are not… you know?»

«Oh, I know what you mean. It’s okay if I’m gay, as long as I’m not effeminate, isn’t it? It’s okay, as long as I’m straight-passing, so I don’t embarrass you.» Nicolò rolls his eyes, and Yusuf can almost feel how exhausted he is. 

«That’s not what I said,» Leo replies.

«But that’s what you think. That’s what you all think. You are happy that it can stay within the family, that with the other people of the village we can still pretend that I’m still “looking for someone”, that Yusuf is only a friend. And I’m fine, I don’t owe everyone an explanation and it’s not like in London we walk around kissing on the street or holding hands. It’s okay, I’m used to it. And anyway, that’s not even the worst think I’ve been called.»

«What do you mean?» Pietro asks, suddenly concerned. «It happened before?»

«Yeah, many times in Rome, outside of some bars or during the Pride week,» he comments, minimizing. «One time even in London, but then I started being more careful and it stopped happening.»

«Why didn’t you tell us?» Leonardo asks. 

«And what would you have done? Would you have come to Rome to beat those stupid guys? We are not kids anymore, you cannot solve problems by fighting everyone that is going to insult me.»

«So, I should just stare and do nothing? I keep seeing my brother getting insulted and mistreated and I’m supposed to just accept it?»

And then suddenly everything is clear. «Is it about what happened six years ago? Do you think I’m angry at you? That I blame you?» he asks.

«Don’t you? We failed you, Nico. When you most needed us, we all let you down. Me, Pietro, Marta, mom and dad and even Elisa! We allowed this to happen for _years_ because we were too afraid to change. So even if you don’t blame me, I blame myself.» He breathes heavily when he concludes the sentence. Nicolò stares at him, not knowing how to answer. It is at that point that Pietro speaks.

«On your first day of school, mom called us in the kitchen. I still remember it as if it was yesterday. You were a shy and introvert kid, and she was afraid that you would be bullied. So, she told us that we were supposed to check on you, to be there for you, that that was what brothers do. And we did it for years. We did our best until you went to high school in Genova, and that’s when things started going bad and we slowly drifted apart. But we want you to know that you will always be our brother, that we never stopped loving you.»

«You think I don’t know? You think I forgot every time you defended me from some bully? Or when you taught me how to swim? Or when you were climbing the peach trees of our garden just to pick the best fruits for me? I know you love me, I know all of you, even dad, never stopped loving me. I just wish - » He takes a deep sigh, trying to phrase it. «I just wish you could stop being awkward about my sexuality. I am not asking you to come to Pride with me or to discuss our sexual lives together, but just… can you stop pretending that you don’t know? Can we try to be less awkward among us?»

Pietro and Leo stare at each other, both of them hoping that the other would fill the silence. «It’s not easy. With the education we received - »

«Which is the same education _I_ received. This is not an excuse, you _have_ to do better. And not for me, but because you cannot assume that your children will be straight. And if this will be the case, I hope you will do a better job than mom and dad. I expect you to do a better job.»

«We know. We want to do better,» Leo says. «I’m sorry for our behavior. And Yusuf, please, I hope we didn’t make you uncomfortable at any time. I think I speak for all of us when we say we are happy you are in Nico’s life.»

«There were some awkward moments, I’m not gonna lie, but you are making me feel accepted and I appreciate it.» And saying this, he looks at Nicolò and rests a hand on his shoulder. And to his surprise, Nicolò pulls him into a kiss. Not one of their lascivious, sloppy kisses that seem to ask for more. It’s a quick kiss, merely a brush on his lips, but he can’t help but smile. 

_ One day we will kiss like this every day, without fear, without shame _ , he thinks. _I can’t wait for that day._

When Nicolò parts their lips, he turns to face his brothers and brothers-in-law with a smirk on his face and asks: «Shall we go home? I can’t wait to celebrate the victory.»

And as they move towards home, Yusuf switches to Arabic to ask: «And how exactly do you plan to celebrate?» The other men are walking in front of them, few steps ahead, too caught in their joy to mind them. His voice is shaky when he asks that question, and surely Nicolò has recognized his desire, because he leans in his direction and whispers:

«Oh, don’t worry, amore, I know how to reward you.»

Yusuf shivers in anticipation.

That night, Nicolò fucks Yusuf on their bed. He teases him, because they both know how noisy Yusuf becomes when he bottoms, how vocal he is when they make love. He doesn’t need to ask what he wants, because Nicolò knows very well how his boyfriend likes to be fucked, especially when his legs are tired and his muscles are tense. Yusuf lies on his stomach while Nicolò prepares him, muffling his moans in the pillow. Then he removes his fingers and teases his rim with the tip of his cock, until the other is basically begging, a whiny mess of Arabic and Italian. And then Nicolò cannot resist anymore and pushes in. He missed that sensation so much.

He trusts into him slowly and deeply, pressing his body against the mattress and Yusuf closes his eyes and forgets about everything and everyone, until nothing exists apart from him and Nicolò, who starts leaving small bites on his skin, kissing the freckles on his shoulder and back, praising his body as he deserves. And the tension slowly melts, like ice in spring, until he is but clay in the hands of his lover.

Yusuf cannot say how much it lasted, too exhausted to keep track of the time, but when he comes his whole body is shaken until there are no energies left in him, and he sinks in the mattress, body heavier than before, while Nicolò comes in him.

After few minutes, Nicolò cleans him, passing a warm wet towel on his sensitive skin and when he kisses him, he tries to mumble something as an answer, but his whole body is too tired and anyway it is not needed. Nicolò already knows.

As he rests his chin on Nicolò’s chest, he can feel the other man playing mindlessly with his hair and murmuring: «Tomorrow, we should go to the seaside.»

And those words taste like a promise.

The day after, they fill two backpacks with everything they could need and Nicolò asks his mother for the car.

«I was wondering if you could bring Anna and Sofia with you. They are getting bored from spending so much time with old people and I think they could use a day at the seaside.»

Nicolò opens his mouth to protest, but Yusuf’s gentle hand on his shoulder stops him. They share one quick look, and then Nicolò says: «Sure, why not?»

The ride is silent, with Sofia napping on her car seat for the whole time and Yusuf desperately looking for a music station on the old radio. Nicolò drives safely, with an elbow outside of the window to enjoy the breeze, while Anna keeps her head on her book, pretending to read.

Yusuf smells it before seeing it. He grew up next to the sea and he could never mistake the perfume of the Mediterranean. They pass through a wood of maritime pines and his nose is hit by the smell of resin and pinecones. And then he sees it: the sea, vast and shiny, of an intense, disorienting blue-green. The same color of Nicolò’s eyes.

They park near the beach and while Nicolò wakes up Sofia, Yusuf takes care of the parasol and the backpacks. He notices that Anna is still quiet and that she keeps her eyes on her book, so he attempts an approach:

«That looks like an interesting book,» he comments. She raises her eyes from the book for a second and answers with a “mh-mh” before lowering her gaze again, making it blatantly clear that she’s not interested in a conversation. On the other side, Sofia seems quite vocal about her wanting to take a swim as soon as possible, while Nicolò picks her up from her car seat.

They set the parasol and Nicolò catches Sofia before she manages to run away and makes her wear a pair of pink floaties, despite her protests. Once they are ready to head to the sea, Anna says:

«I’m not coming. I’ll stay here and read.»

Sofia grabs the arm of her sister and pulls, trying to convince her to join them. Nicolò tries another approach, sitting next to her. He asks Yusuf to go ahead with Sofia and leave them alone for some minutes. Then he turns to Anna:

«So, will you tell me what the problem is?»

«You don’t want me here. You wish you were alone with Joe.»

It is not a question, it is a statement. But the seriousness of Anna is what really concerns him. She has always been a cheerful kid and she’s definitely too young to be going through the adolescence. «Why do you think so?»

«I _heard_ you, complaining to nonna that you didn’t want us around. And I don’t want to be a burden.»

_ Oh, so it is like this _ . «Anna, I’m sorry for what you heard. And yes, maybe I wanted to spend some time alone with Joe, but I’m happy that you and Sofia are here. I’m happy that we can spend this day together.» He turns to look at Yusuf and Sofia. They have reached the sea and stopped where the water barely reaches Sofia’s ankles, leaving her free to splash her small feet on the water. «Joe is dear to me, but you are my family. And you will always be.»

She raises her eyes from her book and looks at Nicolò: «Always?» He nods and she can’t hide her smile anymore. «Can we have an ice cream?»

«Only if you put down that book and come to take a swim with us.» This time her smile is wide and bright. She carelessly lets down her book and takes Nicolò’s hand. As they head to the water, Nicolò looks at Yusuf and Sofia, waving at them, and think: _This might be my future. With him._

His future has never looked so bright.

The day passes fast and light, filled with the high-pitched shrieks of the girls and their wholehearted laughers. Anna slowly loses her concerns and goes back to be the cheerful kid she usually is. They eat their lunch sitting under the parasol, munching their sandwiches while Nicolò cuts some peaches for all of them. The two men gets some hours of slack while Sofia takes an afternoon nap and Anna goes back to her book. Nicolò picks the crossword books he bought in Tunis before leaving and tries to solve one of the puzzle. Yusuf stares at his frowning expression, too amused to offer his help.

At three, they drag the girls for another swim. Sofia, with the boldness of her young age, asks Yusuf to sit on his shoulder and grips her small hands on his curls, while Anna enjoy the feeling of being thrown in the water by her uncle. Once they go back to the beach, Sofia insists that it is ice cream time. She pulls Yusuf’s arm until he accepts to walk with her to bar of the beach. Anna remains with Nicolò under the parasol, waiting for the others to be back.

«Can I ask you something?» she murmurs, hesitantly. When Nicolò nods, she adds: «Joe is not just a friend, right?»

Nicolò is caught off guard by the question. He opens his mouth to answer and then closes it. He takes a deep breath and asks: «How?»

She shrugs: «The brother of my friend Eleonora has a boyfriend. Sometimes they come to pick her up after school. They look at each other the same way you look at Joe.»

Nicolò smiles, realizing how much she grew up in those years since he left for London. «You are right.»

«Will you marry him?»

The question hits him again. «I - it’s complicated.»

«Why? Because you are young? Mom said that zia Marta got married at twenty-one.»

«Because two men cannot get married neither in Italy nor in Tunisia, where Joe comes from.»

«Why so?»

He is not prepared for that kind of conversation, and the sheer honesty of her questions is disarming. «Because some people think it is wrong.»

She evaluates the answer in silence. «But if it was possible, would you marry him?»

_ I would marry him at this exact moment, on this beach, in this August afternoon, if only I could, if he said yes. _ «I would. Maybe in some years.»

«Good. I like him. He is funny and he is good at drawing.» She looks at him and asks: «If you marry him, can I call him “zio”?»

«Okay, enough questions,» he declares, tickling her to stop the otherwise endless stream of questions. At that moment, Yusuf and Sofia come back with the ice creams. 

«What did we miss?» asks Yusuf, noticing the meaningful looks that Anna and Nicolò are sharing.

«Nothing,» Anna answers, too quickly and too sharply to sound sincere. Yusuf eyes at Nicolò, but he just tilts his head, their way of saying “later”. They eat their ice creams sitting under the parasol, the shadows becoming longer and longer while the sun approaches the horizon, Anna resting her head against Nicolò’s chest and Sofia bothering Yusuf with her endless chatting.

Yusuf looks at Nicolò, who is quietly singing along with Anna. And he thinks: _He is the one. He has always been the one._ And with that realization comes another. _Tonight I must speak to him._ A sudden wave on anxiety takes control of him and he struggle to swallow.

But then Nicolò shifts his gaze from Anna to Yusuf, a warm smile still drawn on his lips. And Yusuf fears no more.

Yusuf parks the car in the driveway in front of the house. Anna gets off the car with a huge yawn, while Sofia doesn’t even bother to wake up, not even when Nicolò picks her up from the car seat. Rosanna steps outside:

«Look at you! Did you behave with zio Nico?»

«They both behaved,» Nicolò confirms, letting Sofia in the arms of Rosanna.

«Good. Dinner will be ready in forty minutes.» She walks back inside, while Anna starts narrating their day at the sea. 

Yusuf reaches Nicolò and asks: «Do we have time for a walk?»

«Aren’t you tired?» he says, laughing. But then he notices Yusuf’s expression and murmurs: «Sure.»

They step outside of the driveway and start walking along the road, only fields surrounding them. Yusuf hesitates and they spend the first minutes in complete silence, until he manages to mumble: «Do you remember last year, when we were job hunting and we sent some curricula around Europe? And that one of the options for me was this gallery in Paris, where an old friend of my mom worked?»

Nicolò quivers and nods. «I do, but she said that she wasn’t hiring, if I remember correctly.»

«She called back. She said I can have the job, if I want.»

«And you want it?»

«I - I don’t know what I want. I moved to London because I wanted to be myself, but it turned out it wasn’t the dream I thought it would be. And part of me would like to go back home, part of me is sick tired of staying away from my family.»

«Are you - Are you breaking up with me?» His voice is shaken, and when Yusuf looks at Nicolò in the eyes, he can immediately tell that he is on the verge of crying.

«Nico, no! Fuck, no I’m not breaking up with you, I don’t - » He cups his hands on his face, brushing the thumb on his cheek. «I have only one reason to stay, and that reason is you. And that is enough. I want to try this new adventure in Paris, I want to move there with you and start a new life. If you want to, of course.»

This time it is Nicolò’s turn to remain quiet. He stares at Yusuf, incapable of speaking, until the other says: «Please, Nico, say something.»

«I want to,» he murmurs, almost whispers breathlessly. «I want to move with you, I want to believe in us,» he says, nodding. Yusuf pulls him into a kiss, grabbing his t-shirt while Nicolò wrap his arms around his neck. «I know it’s crazy, I know we are young and - and for both of us this is the first serious relationship, but in these days, while I was seeing you with my family, I was thinking - I was thinking that you already _are_ part of my family.»

«I am, as you are part of mine.» Yusuf can’t stop smiling and realizes how stupid he has been, waiting for so long before telling him, scared of his future for no reason. «I can’t wait to start our new life, me at the gallery and you with your doctorate.»

Nicolò stops walking and stares at him: «I don’t know if I’ll accept the position.»

«What? I thought you wanted it.»

«I did, I thought that it was the natural continuation of my career but now I think that maybe I’m not cut for the academic life. That maybe it will be too much for me. I’ve had this kind of doubts for months.»

«I thought you were hesitating because - » Yusuf doesn’t finish the sentence, but Nicolò already knows what he wanted to say.

«Because of you? You were one of the reasons, I won’t lie, but not the only one. I’m sorry, I should have been more honest with you.»

«No, it’s alright. I also haven’t been honest with you about my concerns. I don’t want to pressure you, but you have a deadline to decide as well, don’t you?»

«By the end of this week,» he admits. «I wanted to use this time to make my mind but then my family was always there and everything was just too much.»

«Have you told them?»

«Not yet. But their opinion doesn’t count.»

«I think it does,» says Yusuf. «You have to tell them. They care about you, they care about your future. But above all, I think it will be good for you.»

Nicolò nods and takes a step back. «I think I need some minutes alone.»

«Sure,» says Yusuf. Nicolò comes close to him, one last time, and leaves a light kiss on his lips before parting. He takes the narrow road to the village, leaving Yusuf alone in the middle of the countryside. The last thing he sees of Nicolò, before he disappears behind the corner, is his back, illuminated by the warm color of the sunset, his long dark shadow preceding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February was a terrible month that started with too many night shifts and ended with me in quarantine but hey, at least I managed to finish the second chapter!  
> Hopefully, chap.3 will take a little bit less.
> 
> I'm sorry for the excessive amount of football in this chapter. I just wanted Yusuf to have fun.
> 
> I'm [ immortal-family](https://immortal-family.tumblr.com) on tumblr (main blog is [ applepie4](https://applepie4.tumblr.com))

**Author's Note:**

> Me: "Oh, this fic will be a little bit longer than the other two sequels, probably 15k words."  
> Also me, after 13k words and being even remotely done: "Okay, how about three chapters?"
> 
> So, yeah, there was too much and one chapter was not enough. I still don't know if it's because I'm not ready to let them go yet, or because I just wanted to throw as many Italian references as possible (and there are more to come).  
> I tried to integrate the explanation of some of these in the story, but I didn't always manage to. If you are curious about anything, feel free to ask :)
> 
> With this fic I wanted to explore the concept of family in its complexity, in particular when dealing with homosexuality.  
> To do so, I took inspiration from the stories of many of my Italian queer friends.  
> In many fanfics I see Nicky's family as being portrayed as deeply homophobic, kicking him out of home and refusing to see him. And as much as I understand where this version can come from a certain interpretation of the canon, I wanted to write something closer to my experience. I hope it will make sense.
> 
> Let me know what you think about it!


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